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She began her first letter to the father she did not know or 

understand. 

(Page ^96.) 


TABITHA 
AT IVY HALL 

BY 

RUTH ALBERTA BROWN 


ILLUSTRATIONS BY 

ALFRED RUSSELL 


THE SAALFIELD PUBLISHING COMPANY 
CHICAGO AKRON, OHIO NEW YORK 


' ^ '\ / 


Copyright, 1911 
by 

THE SAALFIELD PUBLISHING COMPANY 






©CI,A2952(;4 


SIo Mg Ma%r 


t 


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CONTENTS 


CHAPTER N PAGE 

I. The Hateful Name 11 

II. Tabitha Chooses a New Name 33 

HI. Tabitha Adopts Her New Name 45 

IV. The New Name Causes Tabitha Trouble 63 

V. Tabitha Is Comforted 81 

VI. A Dog and a Cat 93 

VII. The New Boy 105 

VIII. Tabitha Begs Pardon..^ 127 

IX. A Brave Little Catt 137 

X. Carrie Goes Away to School 155 

XL A Fire in the Night 17x 

XII. Dr. Vane Has a Visitor.. 183 

XIII. Aunt Maria Decides the Question 201 

XIV. Tabitha ’ s Eoom-mate 221 

XV. The First Night at Ivy Hall 239 

XVI. Madame ’ s Advice 253 

XVII. Holiday Plans 269 

XVIII. Tabitha ^s Christmas 283 

XIX. A Strike! 299 

XX. A Happy Home 309 




ILLUSTRATIONS 


I 


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She began her first letter to the father she did not 
KNOW OR UNDERSTAND Frontispiece^ 

With ringing voice she declaimed the stirring words to 
HER admiring AUDIENCE 50 

‘^GET IT IF YOU can! 122 ^ 

‘^OH,’^ LOOKING INTO THE WINNING EYES OF THE FRENCH 
TEACHER, WAS WISHING THERE WAS NO CHRISTMAS 

Day!»» 254 < 


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TABITHA AT IVY HALL 


CHAPTER I 

THE HATEFUL NAME 

“She leaned far out on the window-sill, 

And shook it forth with a royal will. 

‘Shoot, if you must, this old gray head. 

But spare your country’s flag,’ she said.” 

The black eyes of the little speaker burned 
with fiery indignation as she hurled these words 
of defiance at a ten-quart pail of blackberries 
standing in the middle of the dusty road where 
she had set it when the emotion of her recital 
had overcome her to such a degree that mere 
words were no longer eflTective and gestures 
had become absolutely necessary. She was 
living it herself. What did it matter ^that 
there was no rebel army confronting her, what 
did it matter that the town of Frederick lay 
11 


12 TABITHA AT IVY HALL 


hundreds of miles away, what did it matter 
that she was merely a slip of a girl living fifty 
years after the terrible scenes of war which in- 
spired the words she was reciting? 

The whole picture lay as vividly before her 
as if she had been Dame Barbara herself, and 
she entered into the spirit of the production 
with such vim that her actual surroundings 
were forgotten. Her thin, peaked face, 
browned by sun and wind, was glorified with 
patriotism, and her voice rang sharp with the 
intensity of feeling. Having no flag to shake 
in the face of the approaching enemy, she 
pulled a mullein stalk growing among the tall 
grass and flaunted it so vigorously that in 
leaning over her imaginary window-sill she 
lost her balance and was nearly capsized into 
her pail of luscious berries. 

A rude laugh interrupted her and she was 
brought to earth with a suddenness that left 
her breathless and crimson with embarrass- 
ment beside the road, digging her bare toes 
into the gray dust and waiting for the jeers she 
knew were to follow. 

Then her face changed and the defiance 
flashed back into the big black eyes. Her tor- 


TABITHA AT IVY HALL 13 


mentor was not the person she had evidently 
expected it to be, and her courage rose accord- 
ingly. Again the boy laughed insolently and 
the girl’s fists clenched involuntarily as she 
looked up into the sneering face above her and 
realized that after all she could do him no 
harm for he was perched in the branches of a 
tree just out of reach over her head. His bare 
legs dangled tantalizingly among the green 
leaves, and all she could do to show her fierce 
hatred was to grimace at him. The effect was 
most startling. Her tormentor lost his hold 
on the upper bough and slid from his seat. 
There was a lively scratching and clawing 
among the branches; while below, the black- 
eyed girl held her breath in expectancy. Oh, 
if only he would tumble I But he did not fall, 
and her expression of jubilation changed to 
disappointment. 

Carefully he righted himself on the limb 
where he had landed, and, peering down at the 
child in the road, tauntingly cried, 

“Don’t we think we are smart. Tabby 
Catt, Tabby Catt? Don’t we think we are 
smart?” 


t \ ' 

Il4 TABITHA AT IVY HALL 


The girl’s lips curved scornfully, but her 
hard fists tightened until her knuckles stood 
out like white balls. 

“How’s Thomas Catt today?” continued the 
boy, swinging his feet dangerously near the 
tattered . sunbonnet, which half concealed the 
angry little face below. 

Still she deigned no reply, though her eyes 
blazed furiously and her breath came quick 
and short. She took a step nearer the tree 
and he cautiously drew his feet up to the 
branch on which he sat ; but apparently she did 
not notice this move, as she stood measuring 
the distance from the ground to the limbs 
above and wondering whether or not she could 
reach him and give him the drubbing he de- 
served before he had a chance to escape or call 
for help. She could climb like a squirrel and 
run like a deer, but in the pasture beyond this 
fringe of trees was the boy’s big brother, and 
she had no desire to meet him, having once had 
a taste of his great whip. 

Perhaps the boy in the tree guessed her 
thoughts, for once more he lowered his feet 
and kicked viciously at her as he chanted : 


TABITHA AT IVY HALL 15 


“Tabby Catt, Tabby Catt, 

Drink some milk and make you fat, 
Skinny, scrawny Tabby Catt.” 

The faded calico bonnet caught on his toes 
and he tossed it high in the air, letting it fall 
far out in the dust of the road. Never pausing 
to see what was the fate of her possessions, the 
child let out one scream of animal rage, and 
with a tiger-like spring caught the feet of her 
enemy and jerked the coward off his perch. 

Taken off his guard, he fell heavily into the 
road, crushing her beneath him, and raising 
such a cloud of dust that both were nearly 
smothered; but with a dexterous twist she 
freed herself, and, unconscious of the dust, 
the boy’s screams or the sound of answering 
shouts in the pasture nearby, she fell to pum- 
melling her helpless victim with relentless fists, 
all the while screaming at the top of her voice, 
“I am a Tabby Catt, am I? I am scrawny 
and skinny, am I? Well, you’re a coward, a 
good-for-nothing coward, and so is your big 
brother. He wouldn’t dare fight Tom, and 
you wouldn’t dare say such things to me if 
Tom was anywhere near. You’re a bully, an 
overgrown baby, a ’f raid-cat! Yes, that’s 


16 TABITHA AT IVY HALL 


what you are! I may be a Tabby Catt, but 
I’m not a ’f raid-cat. I may be skinny and 
scrawny now, but I reckon you will be, too, 
when I get through with you, Joe Pomeroy! 
You’re the sneakin’est sneak that ever lived — 
except your brother. ’Fraid-cat, sneak, sneak, 
sneak, s-n-e-a-k — ” 

Words failed her. What could she say 
mean enough to express her contempt for the 
howling coward almost twice her size pinned 
under her knees, making no attempt to defend 
himself against the rain of blows falling wher- 
ever the avenging fists could strike? 

Suddenly she felt herself snatched from the 
back of her victim, held high in the air so her 
feet did not touch the ground, and shaken to 
and fro as a terrier shakes a rat. She twisted 
and turned and writhed and squirmed to free 
herself, thinking this must be the big brother 
punishing her for the drubbing she had given 
hapless Joe, and expecting any instant to 
feel the lash of his heavy herder’s whip. But 
no whip struck her, and with one great tug she 
broke loose from the hand that gripped her 
shoulder, and confronted — ^not Sneed Pome- 
roy, the bully, but a tall, swarthy-faced man 


TABITHA AT IVY HALL 17 


with a long beard and snapping black eyes, 
very much like her own, had she taken the time 
to notice it, who held her transfixed for a mo- 
ment with his angry gaze. Amazed to find 
Joe’s rescuer — for such he appeared to her — 
some one other than the big brother Sneed, and 
angered at the vigorous shaking he had given 
her, the child found vent for her outraged feel- 
ings in a horrible grimace at the stalwart man 
in front of her. With an exclamation of an- 
ger the stranger raised his hand as if to strike 
the girl, but she dodged the blow, and 
screamed in disdainful defiance: 

“Slap, if you dare, you olS gray head. 

I’ll scratch like a — cat — ^till you’ll wish you 
were dead.” 

She hesitated a moment before choosing that 
word, and as it fell from her lips, she glanced 
apprehensively at the blubbering Joe still ly- 
ing in the dust, and saw for the first time that 
this rescuer, whoever he might be, was evi- 
dently unknown to Joe, for the coward’s 
bloody face was even more scared than when 
she had been pounding it, and he looked as if 
he, too, expected to receive some punishment 
from the hands of the mysterious stranger. 


18 TABITHA AT IVY HALL 


“Tabitha Catt!” 

She whirled toward the man in frightened 
silence, and her clenched hands dropped nerve- 
less at her side. It was her father! What a 
change the heavy beard made in his appear- 
ance; and then besides, it was almost a year 
since she had seen him. No wonder she had 
failed to recognize him in her anger. It would 
have taken more than one glance had she met 
him under ordinary circumstances. 

‘‘Put on your bonnet and march home. We 
will settle matters there.” 

His words sounded so ominous that she has- 
tily did as he bid, wondering dully whether at 
last her day of reckoning had come. 

“Here, boy, take your berries and be off, 
but if I ever catch you hec — ” 

“Those are my berries,” Tabitha found 
courage to say, suddenly remembering the pail 
heaped full of the fmit she had toiled all the 
morning to pick; and the man, glancing down 
at her bony hands, scratched and scarred by 
blackberry thorns, thrust the heavy pail into 
her arms and without a word followed her in 
the dusty march toward the house a quarter of 
a mile distant; nor did he once offer to help 


TABITHA AT IVY HALL 19 


her with her load, though the way was rough, 
the day intensely hot, and the weight too much 
for the slender shoulders of the child. Once 
she stubbed her toe, and he pulled her roughly 
to her feet, but released his hold on her arm 
when she fixed her black eyes full of scorn and 
anger upon his face; and a grim smile played 
an instant about his lips, but was gone again 
before the child could see it. 

The house was reached at last, and with a 
sigh of relief Tabitha dropped her burden in 
the doorway and sank down beside it. 

At the sound of steps on the gravel walk, a 
fussy, fidgety little woman appeared from the 
room beyond, and stopped in astonishment at 
sight of the giant coming up the steps. Be- 
fore she had a chance to express her surprise, 
however, he spoke, addressing the panting 
child fanning herself with her bonnet: 

“Close that screen. Can’t you see those 
flies coming in? Go to my room, I want to 
have an understanding with you. Maria, 
Tabitha isn’t to have a taste of those berries. 
I just found her in the middle of the road 
down here fighting with a boy, like the rowdy 
she is.” 


20 TABITHA AT IVY HALL 


Accustomed to obey this stern father, 
Tabitha had withdrawn into the house, and 
started for the room where punishment 
awaited her. At his command in regard to 
the berries, however, she paused; then turned 
to where the pail stood just inside the screen, 
seized it, and before either of the two specta- 
tors understood what she was about, she flung 
bucket, berries and all into the dooryard and 
ground the shining fruit into the sand with her 
bare feet. 

“There, Manx Catt,” she exclaimed, ‘T 
reckon you won’t have a taste of them either!” 

A gasp of dismay escaped the frightened 
woman, but again the grim smiled flitted across 
the face of the father, though he looked like a 
thunder cloud as he roared at the child, “Go 
straight to your room and to bed! You shall 
not have a thing to eat today!” 

With her feet stained a dirty purple, 
Tabitha marched into the house and upstairs, 
rushed to her little bed in the corner, and threw 
herself full length on the counterpane, regard- 
less of the fact that drops of berry juice still 
dripped from her brown legs. For fully ten 
minutes she lay there, flghting back the angry 


TABITHA AT IVY HALL 21 


tears and battling with the fierce rage against 
her father. 

‘T hate him, I hate him!” she told herself 
over and over again. “It’s bad enough to have 
him name me Tabitha without his acting so 
hateful every time he comes home. I wish he 
would go off to the mines and stay forever. 
He might take Aunt Maria, too, though she 
ain’t so bad. We could get along with her all 
right; sometimes she is splendid, even if she is 
so fussy. Oh, dear, why can’t we have a nice 
mother like other children have? I reckon 
ours wouldn’t have died if she had known 
Aunt Maria would have to take care of us and 
Dad would be so horrid.” 

Her list of woes was fast increasing, and the 
tears were very near the bubbling-over point, 
when she heard heavy steps on the stairs. 

“Oh, my sakes! that’s Dad. Wonder if he 
will lick me this time. I ’spect he will some 
day, and Tom says he licks awful hard. Won- 
der if he will use a whip like sneaky Sneed Pom- 
eroy. Wisht I was as big as Tom; he don’t get 
licked any more, he’s too big. Dad told me 
to go to bed and I ain’t undressed. Maybe it’s 
just as well if he’s going to lick me.” 


22 TABITHA AT IVY HALL 


The steps had reached the upper floor now, 
and she cowered in a trembling heap in the 
middle of her bed waiting for the door to open 
and let her father enter. But they continued 
down the hall without so much as pausing be- 
fore her door, and now as her heart began to 
beat normally again, she heard Aunt Maria’s 
voice saying, ‘‘There’s a dreadful clutter to 
move if we take everything. Some of those 
boxes we brought from Dover have never been 
opened though we’ve been here two years now. 
Doesn’t seem as if we had to take all that truck 
with us wherever we go. There hasn’t been a 
thing in the stuff that we’ve needed.” 

“Then don’t take it,” cut in the man’s heavy 
voice. “Where is it?” 

Cautiously creeping off the bed, Tabitha 
pressed her ear to the keyhole to catch the rest 
of this interesting conversation, but as she lis- 
tened, her face paled and a rebellious look 
came into the expressive black eyes. 

So they were going to move away! Where 
would they go this time? It seemed to her 
that moving was all they ever did. Not that 
she minded the moving part of it — that was 
fun — but — . Here the tears came in earnest. 


TABITHA AT IVY HALL 23 


It was her dreadful name that she minded. It 
didn’t make any difference where they went, 
everyone made fun of her name, and folks no 
sooner got used to seeing her odd little figure 
and hearing her still odder name than they 
moved to some other town, and the same thing 
had to be lived over. Oh, it was too bad! 

All the hot afternoon father and aunt busied 
themselves in the adjoining rooms, tearing 
open boxes, sorting, re-packing, and bundling 
things around generally, until finally the noise 
became so great that only an occasional word 
of the conversation could be heard by the little 
listener at the keyhole. As the day waned, 
however, and the supper hour approached, 
both workers ceased their pounding and went 
downstairs, leaving Tabitha alone with her 
tearful reflections in the gathering dusk. Here 
Tom found her, still huddled in a heap beside 
the door. 

“Oh, Tom,” she greeted him, “I thought 
you would never come. What made you so 
late? Did you know Dad had come home 
again? Haven’t you something in your pocket 
to eat? I’m hungry as a wolf.” 

“Hush!” he said, slipping inside the door 


24 TABITHA AT IVY HALL 


and closing it softly behind him. ‘‘Dad would 
be awfully mad if he knew I was here. I just 
got home. Had an errand across the pond af- 
ter the store was closed. Here’s a biscuit and 
some cheese. Why aren’t you in bed? Aunt 
Maria said Dad sent you there at noon.” As 
he spoke, the boy lifted the little sister to her 
feet, brushed out her crumpled dress, 
smoothed back her tangled hair and slipped 
the biscuit saved from his own supper into her 
eager hands. 

“I did go to bed,” mumbled Tabitha, with 
her mouth full of bread. 

“You aren’t undressed.” 

“Dad didn’t say I had to undress, and he 
didn’t say I had to stay in bed, either.” 

Tom grinned at her understanding of the 
law, but the darkness hid his face, so his 
amusement was lost to the small sister eating 
so ravenously. 

“Did he lick you. Puss?” 

“Nope. I thought he was going to, for he 
looked right mad, but I reckon I was so mad it 
wouldn’t have hurt much.” 

“But it does hurt to have him whip. At 
least, it used to hurt me. Do be careful, Puss, 


TABITHA AT IVY HALL 25 


I don’t want him to begin whipping you. 
How did you make him so mad?” 

The child briefly recounted the story of the 
morning’s tribulations between bites of biscuit 
and cheese, growing so angry over her recital 
that the flood gates were opened again and she 
sobbed aloud in her tempest of grief. 

“It’s all on account of my horrid name,” she 
told him. ‘T just can’t be good when folks 
say such mean things. Joe Pomeroy is a 
sneak anyway, and I’ve been itching to lick 
him for a long, long time — ever since Sneed hit 
me with the whip he uses to drive the cows 
with.” 

“Did Sneed hit you with a whip?” 

“Yes. Oh, Tom, I never meant to tell you 
that! Now you’ll go and fight him and he 
will hurt you, ’cause he’s so much bigger than 
you are, and then Dad will whale you for 
fighting. Thrash Joe, but don’t tackle Sneed. 
Oh, please!” 

Tom laughed ironically. “Hm, what satis- 
faction would it be to me to thrash someone 
that you have licked. Puss?” he asked. 

“Please, Tom, don’t touch Sneed,” she 
begged, crying harder than ever; and to still 


26 TABITHA AT IVY HALL 

her sobs, he promised, though in his heart he 
vowed vengeance. 

“How did you happen to go blackberrying 
without me?” he asked to divert her attention 
from her anxiety over him. “I thought you 
wanted me to go with you.” 

“Why, you’re so busy at the store that we 
don’t have time to get more than a handful at 
night when you can go, and the bushes were 
just loaded with them just below Pomeroy’s 
pasture. I never thought about Joe’s being 
there to tease me. I did want the berries so 
much, for Aunt Maria said she would make 
some jelly and some jam if I would pick the 
berries. She won’t gather ’em ’cause the 
thorns tear her hands so. I got the pail full — 
heaped up so they kept tumbling off — and now 
they are all spoiled and I’ve scratched my 
hands to pieces all for nothing.” 

Tom expected a fresh wail would follow this 
statement, for though Tabitha was not ordina- 
rily a cry-baby, the day of trials had been too 
much for her; but he was surprised when after 
a moment of silence in which he was vainly 
trying to think of something consoling to say, 
she remarked, “Well, I don’t know’s I care 


TABITHA AT IVY HALL 27 


much about the berries, ’cause we’re going to 
move, and I s’pose if we had a lot of jelly put 
up. Dad would say it wasn’t any use to take it 
with us, and we would have to leave it along 
with the rest of the truck they’ve been sorting 
out today.” 

“Move?” the boy interrupted, as the realiza- 
tion of what she was saying dawned upon him. 
“Who says we’re going to move? What do 
you mean? They never told me!” 

“I heard Dad tell Aunt Maria we would 
leave the last of the week for the place where 
he has just come from, and they have been 
packing all the afternoon.” 

Tom was silent and in the darkness Tabitha 
could not see his face, but she seemed to under- 
stand how he felt about it, and after a moment 
she slipped a thorn-scratched little hand into 
his, as she said, 

“You don’t like it, do you. Tommy? I’m 
sorry, too. I wanted to stay here. The peo- 
ple who have moved in the big red house by 
the pond have two of the nicest children. 
They are cousins and have the prettiest names 
— Rosalie Meywood and Rosslyn Fennimore 
— and they are almost my age. I hated to tell 


28 TABITHA AT IVY HALL 

them my name, but they didn’t laugh a bit, 
Tom. They didn’t even look queer at each 
other, and Rosslyn said they had a kitten they 
called Tabby and it was the smartest cat they 
ever saw. They have taught it tricks and Ro- 
salie invited me over to see it. I met them 
down in the blackberry patch. They were 
picking just for fun and they helped me a 
little — not much, ’cause they were so slow. 
Neither of them knows how to pick berries and 
they took only those out in sight, while the 
very best ones are most always way in under 
the vines. We are all in the same classes in 
school and we planned such nice times together 
when lessons begin again. I never get to 
knowing any nice people but we move away. 
Do you s’pose we will ever have any friends, 
Tom?” 

Tom’s thoughts were very busy, and he only 
half heard the child’s lively chatter. In the 
dim long ago, when he was only six years old, 
one morning a white-aproned woman with a 
gentle face had called him to her and led him 
into a room where lay his own dear mother with 
a little white bundle on her arm, and when the 
covers were turned down he had looked into a 


TABITHA AT IVY HALL 29 


tiny, red, wrinkled face with blinking, black 
eyes and was told that this was a baby sister 
come to be a playmate for him. Then the 
nurse went away and left them for a little 
while and his mother talked to him in her soft 
voice that he could remember best in the little 
lullaby she used to sing to him : 

“I’m tired now, and sleepy, too. 

Come put me in my little bed.” 

She had laid the baby’s little fisting hands 
into his and told him that he must always take 
good care of little sister. He never saw the 
mother again, but after days of hushed voices 
and light steps in the big house, Aunt Maria 
had come to take care of them, and they moved 
away to another town. 

The baby lived and had grown from year to 
year until she was now past eight years old, 
and he had tried his best to take care of her. 
But she had never known a mother’s love nor a 
father’s. Oh yes, the father was living. Tom 
could remember the tall, dark man having 
once seized him in his arms and pressed passion- 
ate kisses upon his lips, but he had never seen 
him caress the little helpless bundle the mother 
had left when the angels carried her awajr^ 


30 TABITHA AT IVY HALL 


Sometimes it seemed as if he could faintly re- 
call having heard the father say bitterly to 
that unconscious babe, “You have killed your 
mother.” And then it seemed as if a woman’s 
voice answered him accusingly, “You killed 
her yourself when you named the child Tabi- 
tha.” Tom was fourteen years old now, but 
some of these memories were so dim that he 
could not be sure they were really memories 
and not dreams that had come to him in the 
night and clung, as so often such fancies do. 

There had been no one to ask, for Aunt Ma- 
ria had not come until later, and even then, she 
did not talk to the children very much, so he 
had grown accustomed to thinking of these 
things just to himself. Tabitha was too 
young to be made his confidante in such mat- 
ters; indeed, he could never tell her some 
things. They would only make her hate the 
austere father more than ever. So he sighed. 
This was the fifth time they had moved from 
one town to another since the mother had died, 
and each place was worse than the last. No 
sooner were they well established in one city 
than the restless spirit seized the father and 
they moved again. How would it end? 


TABITHA AT IVY HALL 31 


“Do you, Tom? This is the third time I 
have asked you that.” 

“I’m sorry. Puss. I was thinking about 
something else just then. What is it?” 

“Do you s’pose we will ever have any 
friends? Rosalie says next week three of her 
little friends where they used to live are com- 
ing to stay with her until school begins in Sep- 
tember; and when she asked me if I ever had 
any friends come to visit me, I had to tell her I 
never had any friends. She seemed ever so 
surprised, and I did want to stay in one place 
long enough to have some friends. But I 
s’pose it is my name that keeps folks from be- 
ing friends with me. No one would want to 
say, ‘My chum’s name is Tabitha Catt.’ 
Would they? Everybody would laugh and 
maybe they would sing: 

‘Tabby Catt, Tabby Catt, 

Drink some milk and make you fat, 
Skinay, scrawny Tabby Catt.’ 

Wouldn’t that make the friend feel awful? 
Am I very skinny, Tom?” 

Poor Tom! How could he answer the ava- 
lanche of questions? At fourteen one is not 
very wise, but Tom squeezed the rough hand 


32 TABITHA AT IVY HALL 


still holding his, and answered hopefully, 
“Some day we will have some friends. Pussy. 
And some day when I get big and can work 
for you, we will settle down and live in one 
town, and people will come to see us, and they 
won’t care anything about our names.” 

Something in his tone made Tabitha say 
questioningly, “Do you still mind your name, 
Tom?” 

“Not as much as I used to. Puss. Now you 
must go to bed. It’s getting late and pretty 
soon Dad and Aunt Maria will be coming up- 
stairs. Good-night.” With another gentle 
squeeze of her hand he was gone. 


CHAPTER II 

TABITHA CHOOSES A NEW NAME 

The day was done. The crimson sunset 
glow still hung over the whole world, touching 
the brown, parched hills with a rainbow of col- 
ors and reflecting itself in the cloudbank 
massed high in the eastern sky. Tom, hurry- 
ing home through the fields from his last er- 
rands at the store, was whistling softly and 
enjoying the beauty of the early evening, won- 
dering all the while why the little sister was 
not running to meet him, and half expecting to 
see her jump out at him from behind some 
clump of bushes. But Tabitha was nowhere 
in sight. 

“Poor Puss! Wonder if she has been pun- 
ished again today. Wish I could keep her 
with me all the time. She wouldn’t get into so 
much mischief.” 

He anxiously scanned the house as he ap- 
proached it for some glimpse of lively Tab- 
itha, but was disappointed. Suddenly from 
overhead came a soft bird trill, followed by a 

‘33 


84 TABITHA AT IVY HALL 


suppressed snicker. He looked up quickly, 
and there in the branches of the wide-spread- 
ing sycamore tree by the corner of the house 
was a flutter of white which, upon closer in- 
spection, proved to be Tabitha's nightgown, 
and Tabitha was inside it! 

“Tab—” 

“Sh!” came the instant command. “Eat 
supper and come up to my room. IVe got 
something to show you.” 

Tom obediently followed her instructions, 
and some minutes later his head appeared at 
the window, and he demanded, “Puss, are 
you still working for that licking?” 

“Nope,” she answered serenely. “We don’t 
have to talk in whispers now, for Dad has 
gone up the road and I heard him tell Aunt 
Maria he wouldn’t be home until late.” 

“What does this mean? What are you do- 
ing out in that tree, and why are you in your 
nightgown? It’s getting damp and you will 
catch cold sitting out there like that.” 

“I ain’t imdressed,” came the scornful re- 
ply. “I poured a cup of coffee down Dad’s 
collar and burned his neck — oh, I didn’t do it 
on purpose, Thomas Catt! ’Twas really his 


TABITHA AT IVY HALL 35 


fault, for he joggled my elbow just as I was 
reaching up to set it on the shelf to cool. Aunt 
Maria was going to make coffee cake for sup- 
per. But of course he blamed me, and he sent 
me up to bed again. Reckon he guessed that 
I didn’t put on my nightgown yesterday, for 
he told me that I had to do it this time and to 
get into bed. He didn’t say I had to undress, 
though, so I just put on my gown and crawled 
into bed for a second. That was all he really 
told me to do, now Tom. I can't stay in bed 
in the daytime, so I came out here to sit. I’ve 
got on all my clothes and my nightgown be- 
sides, so I won’t catch cold on this hot night. 
Goodness! I should hope not. One time I 
had a sneezing spell and Aunt Maria made me 
sit for ages with mullein leaves dipped in hot 
vinegar stuck onto my feet. Said she was 
afraid maybe I was going to have a bad cold 
or a fever. We’d been running races and my 
face was red and hot.” 

Tom laughed, though the details of the epi- 
sode were very fresh in his mind yet. He had 
escaped a similar fate only because he was so 
big that the fussy little aunt could no longer 
force him to take her vile doses. 


36 TABITHA AT IVY HALL 


“Well, what is the wonder you have to show 
me? I confess I am curious. Have you 
found another history you didn’t know be- 
longed to us, or has one of that missing bunch 
turned up?” 

“Yes, no; it’s a Bible.” There was a scrap- 
ing among the branches and through the 
parted leaves Tom saw a huge volume hanging 
on a bough in some mysterious manner. 

“Goodness gracious. Puss! How did you 
get that thing out there?” 

“I did have quite a time of it,” confessed 
the child, tugging at the heavy book to keep it 
from slipping out of her hands to the ground 
below, and at the same time trying to balance 
herself on the smooth bough. “I guess you 
will have to pull it in the window again. I 
have broken its back getting it out here.” 

“What will Dad say?” 

“It was thrown out among the stuff we are 
going to leave here, so I guess he won’t care. 
I’d like to take it, though, Tom, for it has the 
lovehest names in it. Just listen here, — ‘The- 
odora Marcella Folwell’ — ain’t that grand? 
And here’s another, ‘Gabrielle Flora Fol- 
well’-^” 


TABITHA AT IVY HALL 37 


‘‘What in the world are you reading?’’ 
asked the puzzled boy, craning his neck out of 
the window to see what sort of a Bible it could 
be with such names as these in it. 

“Aunt Maria said it was an old Bible that 
we’ve carted around for years and it is such a 
nuisance to move that they don’t mean to pack 
it this time at all. There are a lot of names in 
the back and some awfully homely pictures. 
I rubbed my finger on one and it smooched the 
nose clear off and blurred both eyes, but he 
wasn’t good looking anyway. It isn’t much 
worse now. On one page it says ‘Births,’ and 
on another ‘Deaths,’ and on the third ‘Mar- 
riages.’ ” 

“Oh!” Tom was suddenly enlightened. 
“Hold the book fast now and I’ll come down 
where you are and get it. Don’t fall.” 

His instructions were unnecessary. Tabi- 
tha’s legs were curled around the big bough so 
tightly that it would have taken a cyclone to 
dislodge her, and the mammoth Bible hung 
suspended by its broken back from an adja- 
cent branch in such a fashion that as long as 
its heavy binding held it could not fall. But 
it took considerable effort to haul it up into 


38 TABITHA AT IVY HALL 


the house again, and this was finally accom- 
plished only after Tabitha had crawled back 
through the window to tug at it from above, 
while Tom pushed at it from below, swaying 
and bumping in the sycamore until both child- 
ren held their breath for fear boy and Bible 
would land in a heap on the ground. 

“There!” breathed Tabitha with a sigh of 
relief when at last the volume lay safe on the 
wide window-sill. “Now you can see all the 
names yourself. I never heard such grand 
ones before. How do you pronounce A-m-a- 
r-i-a-h? And here’s a perfectly beautiful one 
D-i-o-n-y-s-i-u-s Carpenter. It has him down 
under the marriages with Pen-e-lope Miranda 
Folwell. Don’t you think that is pretty? 
They are all so different from John and 
Frank and — and — Thomas and Tabitha. I 
wish I could pick out a pretty name for my 
very own and have folks call me that always. 
Don’t you?” 

Tom was intently studying the records 
penned in faded ink on the yellow pages, and 
now he raised his head and looked into the 
eager black eyes upturned to his, as he said 
slowly. 


TABITHA AT IVY HALL 39 


“Puss, this must be the family Bible that 
belonged to Mother’s folks. I can remember 
Dad used to call her Dora, and I have an old 
letter I found in a book a long time ago that 
has the name Folwell on it. Yes, here’s the 
record. See, Puss? ‘Theodora Marcella Fol- 
well and Lynne Maximilian Catt, married 
Sept. 10th, 18 — ,’ it’s blurred so I can’t read 
the rest of it. But that must be Dad. His 
name is Maximilian, you know, though I 
never heard the Lynne part of it before.^’ 

“Lynne,” repeated Tabitha, half to herself. 
“That might be a pretty name if it belonged 
to anyone but a Catt man. Lynne Catt — ^hml 
Lean cat. That’s what everybody would call 
him. I bet that’s why he used his middle name. 
I’d rather be nicknamed ‘Manx cat’ than to be 
called ‘lean cat,’ wouldn’t you? ‘Skinny, 
scrawny Tabby Catt’ — that’s what they call 
me, Tom. My name might as well have been 
‘Lynne.’ ” 

“Never mind. Puss. When we get moved 
to Silver Bow, people won’t know about that 
rhyme.” 

“Maybe they will think up something worse 
yet. It was bad enough to have the children 


40 TABITHA AT IVY HALL 


of Conroy sing, ‘Once there was a little kitty,’ 
and then the folks at Dover used to say, 
‘Pussy cat. Pussy cat, where have you been?’ 
It gets worse every place we go.” 

Her lip quivered suspiciously, and Tom 
hastily changed the subject by asking, “What 
would you choose for a name if you could 
take your pick of all the pretty ones you ever 
heard?” 

Tabitha drew a long breath, shook the black 
hair out of her eyes, folded her lean brown 
arms across the nightgown, which looked con- 
siderably the worse for her climb in the syca- 
more tree, and hesitated. 

“A name could have more than one part, 
couldn’t it?” she finally asked. 

“I suppose so; most people have more than 
one.” 

“Well, it’s rather hard to choose, for I have 
heard so many names, though never any as 
grand as these in the Bible. Even ‘Rosalie’ 
isn’t so grand; do you think so? I — believe — 
I’d — like — ^to be called” — Tom waited ex- 
pectantly as she shifted from foot to foot and 
tried to make the important decision. — “Theo- 
dora Marcella Gabrielle Julianna Victoria 


TABITHA AT IVY HALL 41 


Emeline. Say, Tom, will you call me that? 
Just when we’re alone, of course, so Dad 
wouldn’t hear it.” 

Tom caught his breath as if a dash of cold 
water had suddenly struck his face. “Gra- 
cious, Puss ! I never could remember all that. 
Say it again, can you?” 

“Of course! That’s easy, and so pretty. 
Theodora Marcella Gabrielle Julianna Victo- 
ria Emeline. Why, it sounds just like a prin- 
cess, Tom I I believe I could be good and not 
get mad all the time if I had a name like that. 
I know I could. I wouldn’t envy Rosalie 
Meywood one bit. Don’t you think that is a 
perfectly grand name, Tom?” 

Tom bit his lip to keep from laughing as he 
soberly answered, “Tip-top, Puss. I’ll call 
you that sometimes — ^that is, as much of it as 
I can remember, if you want me to; just in 
play, you know. Won’t Dora be enough?” 

“Oh no! Why, that’s hardly any of it. 
Dora is a pretty name, but Theodora is grand. 
If you forget part of it, remember the Theo- 
dora Gabrielle part. That is the best of it. 
Wouldn’t you like to have me call you some- 
thing else besides Tom? There are some aw- 


42 TABITHA AT IVY HALL 


fully nice boys’ names written in that Bible. 
Which did you think were the grandest?” 

‘‘Oh, I like Ulysses first rate. That was Gen. 
Grant’s name, you know, and he was a trump. 
He made some regular splendid fights.” 

Tabitha was evidently disappointed at his 
selection, and he hastily asked, “What do you 
think is the best name for a boy?” 

“The grandest name I think is Di — what 
did you call it? Dionysius? Wouldn’t Diony- 
sius Ulysses Humphrey Llewelyn be splendid ? 
Or would 3^ou like some more? There are six 
parts to my name — ” 

“Oh, no,” Tom interrupted hastily. “That 
is long enough for me. Men don’t need as 
many names as girls, I reckon. You may have 
to remind me what my name is to be, for I am 
afraid I shall always be forgetting it. Sup- 
pose we shorten it to Ulysses. You cut yours 
down a little, you know.” 

“That was just so you could remember it, 
and as I have to do the remembering of your 
name anyway, I reckon I will call you the 
whole thing. It’s a heap prettier than Thomas 
Catt.” 

“Well, all right. Puss; but don’t think about 


TABITHA AT IVY HALL 43 


it so much that you will call me that when Dad 
is around. He won’t like it. I think I will 
keep this Bible, though. Don’t tell. I can 
put it in the bottom of the old trunk where I 
keep my things and no one will ever know but 
you.” 

So he marched away with the precious vol- 
ume under his arm, and Tabitha crawled hap- 
pily into bed to dream of grand names and a 
happy future in the unknown home where 
they were going. 




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CHAPTER III 


TABITHA ADOPTS HER NEW NAME 

“What’s your name?” 

Tabitha wheeled with a start, lost her bal- 
ance, and toppled off the great rock to the 
hard ground, where she lay staring up at the 
fair-haired stranger bending over her with 
anxiety and alarm filling the pretty blue eyes. 

“Are you hurt?” inquired the soft voice. 
“I didn’t mean to make you jump. I’m lone- 
some and when you moved in the nearest house 
to ours I was glad to think there was another 
girl about my size, for maybe you will play 
with me. Will you?” 

Still Tabitha made no reply, but lay as she 
had fallen, not daring to trust her ears or be- 
lieve her eyes — it was not unusual for anyone 
to make friendly advances toward her, though 
she had longed all her lonely little life for a 
playmate. Why, it couldn’t be possible ! 
They were on the desert now in a forlorn little 
mining town located in a hollow between two 
mountain ranges and straggling over a vast 
45 


46 TABITHA AT IVY HALL 


area of barren, rocky hills, with not a tree in 
sight anywhere, except the ugly, uncom- 
promising yuccas, and they could scarcely be 
dignified by the name of trees. Nothing but 
sagebrush, greasewood, mesquite and cactus; 
not even a sprill of grass ! 

To poor homesick Tabitha it seemed as if 
they had dropped off the earth into nowhere. 
She had never seen such a place in all her life, 
nor even dreamed that towns like that existed. 
Wherever they had gone heretofore, there had 
always been trees and flowers, which in a meas- 
ure took the place of the friends she had never 
known but always missed. Now there was not 
even to be this solace; how could there be any 
friends? 

So she remained silent and the little blue- 
eyed girl was puzzled, almost frightened. 
Then a bright idea came to her. 

“Are you an Indian?” she asked timidly, 
wondering if she had better run, supposing the 
black-eyed child should prove to be the daugh- 
ter of a redman. 

“No, I ain’t an Indian!” Tabitha bounced 
on the ground with a startling suddenness that 
froze the other child in her tracks. 


TABITHA AT IVY HALL 47 


Poor Tabitha! Tormented ever since she 
could remember because of her unfortunate 
name, and now to be called an Indian! She 
had sprimg to her feet with fists clenched and 
eyes blazing, yet somehow she seemed to under- 
stand that this plump little body was different 
from the teasing children who had made the 
days miserable for her wherever she went, and 
she- could not strike the avenging blow. But 
the insult, unintentional as it evidently was, 
rankled bitterly nevertheless; and dropping to 
the ground again, she hid her face in her faded 
skirts. 

Instantly two soft arms slipped around her 
and she heard the gentle voice saying sorrow- 
fully, “Oh, please don’t cry, little girl! I didn’t 
mean to make you mad. Of course you aren’t 
an Indian, ’cause your hair curls some, and In- 
dians have awful straight, stiff hair, and they 
are redder than you are. I guess you’ve lived 
on the desert until you are real bro^vn.” 

“I never lived on the desert before, and I 
hate it, hate it, hate it ! Almost as bad as I do 
Dad! I ain’t crying, and I ain’t mad — at 
you.” Tabitha lifted her head and the other 
child saw two very bright, black, beautiful 


48 TABITHA AT IVY HALL 


eyes in the thin tanned face, but the tears she 
expected to see were not there. 

They sat and stared at each other in silence 
a moment and then the strange girl said, “My 
name is Carrie Carson. What’s yours?” 

“Theodora Marcella Gabrielle Julianna 
Victoria Emeline Catt.” 

Carrie gasped. So did Tabitha, but for a 
different reason. Carrie was amazed at the 
length of the name and the ease with which its 
owner spoke it. Tabitha was astonished to 
think the idea of dropping her own obnoxious 
name and adopting a new one had never oc- 
curred to her before. No thought of decep- 
tion ever entered her mind; she merely hated 
“Tabitha” with all the strength of her passion- 
ate nature; she had found a name that filled 
her with delight ; she had adopted it at first in 
play, but it had become very real to her, and 
now as she spoke the words that were so beau- 
tiful to her, it seemed as if they belonged to 
her. 

“How do you ever remember them all?” 
asked Carrie. “Must people use that whole 
long name when they speak to you?” 

“Not unless they want to,” answered Tabi- 


TABITHA AT IVY HALL 49 


tha with restored composure. “Theodora Ga- 
brielle is enough.” 

“Well, Theodora Gabrielle, have you got 
any sisters?” 

“No, only one brother. To — Dionysius 
Ulysses Humphrey Llewelyn.” 

“My ! what long names you do have in your 
family! Will you say it again, please? I 
couldn’t quite make it out.” 

So Tabitha repeated the words slowly, add- 
ing, “Z always call him all of them, but he 
would just as soon folks would call him Ulys- 
ses. He was named after General Grant who 
fought in the Civil War. To — Dionysius 
Ulysses Humphrey Llewelyn taught me how 
to read, ’cause we move so much that some- 
times we miss a lot of school, and I’ve gone 
clear through the United States history. Have 
you?” 

“Mercy, no!” ejaculated Carrie in astonish- 
ment. “I’m not through with geography yet.” 

“Oh, I don’t s’pose I am, either, but we have 
three histories and no geographies at our 
house, so I couldn’t read up geography. To — 
Dionysius Ulysses Humphrey Llewelyn ex- 
plains when I don’t understand, and he draws 


50 TABITHA AT IVY HALL 


maps to show how the battles were fought. 
We learn poetry about fights, too. To — my 
brother is going to be a soldier when he gets 

big" 

The name with which she had so generously 
supplied her brother was becoming very hard 
to manage, and she sat silently eyeing her bare 
feet while she tried in vain to think of some 
way out of the dilemma. She had told Carrie 
that she always called her brother his full 
name. What could she do but prove it? 

Carrie’s voice interrupted her meditations. 
“Don’t you hate to speak before people— I 
mean, speak pieces? It always scares me so I 
forget half of my verses and then papa is so 
disappointed. Mamma always says, ‘Never 
mind, dearie, 

Tf at first you don’t succeed. 

Try, try again.’ 

So I keep on trying and maybe some day 
I can remember them all right.” 

“Oh, I just love to speak!” Tabitha cried. 
“I’ve just learned Barbara Fritchie^ and it is 
grand! 

“ ‘who touches a hair in yon gray head 
Dies like a dog! March on!’ he said.” 



With ringing voice she declaimed the stirring words to her 
admiring audience. 



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TABITHA AT IVY HALL 51 


Carrie clapped her hands. “Oh, say the 
whole of it, Theodora Gabrielle, please!” 

So Tabitha flew to the top of the rock from 
which she had been surveying the waste of 
desert, when Carrie had first put in appearance, 
and with ringing voice declaimed the stirring 
words to her admiring audience. 

That was the beginning of the first real 
friendship poor Tabitha had ever known, and 
the world that opened before her was a beauti- 
ful fairyland. The Carson home was so un- 
like her own that unconsciously she held her 
breath whenever she entered the big house 
where the superintendent of the Silver Legion 
Mines lived, fearing that she might wake up 
and find it after all only a dream — the sweet- 
faced mother who kissed little Carrie every 
day, the smiling, genial father who always 
had some pretty gift in his pocket for his only 
child, the dainty furnishings of the big house 
which seemed so gorgeously splendid to the 
neglected girl, and particularly the wonderful 
toys and story-books that belonged to the 
flaxen-haired fairy who opened the door of 
this V onderland for her to enter. 

Having never known a mother’s love herself, 


52 TABITHA AT IVY HALL 


Tabitha regarded dainty Mrs. Carson with a 
feeling of awe which deepened into worship as 
the acquaintance progressed, but proved to be 
a great barrier between them for a long time. 
She spoke of her in a hushed voice, treasured 
every smile as if it had been some precious 
gem, and hungered for the caresses so freely 
bestowed upon little Carrie, but feared to ap- 
proach near enough this beautiful goddess to 
receive them herself. 

Mr. Carson she could understand better. 
He was another Tom grown up, only where 
Tom was silent and shy, this man was jolly and 
friendly. He laughed a great deal, said funny 
things, never teased little girls except in a 
playful way that made one like to meet him, 
and was always very, very kind. She never 
heard him say a cross word to anyone, and once 
when she asked Carrie if he ever got mad and 
punished her, the blue-eyed girl was very in- 
dignant. 

“My papa is never mad,” she stoutly de- 
clared. “When I do naughty things, he just 
looks so disappointed and says, T am so 
sorry,’ in such a way that it makes me sorry, 
too.” 


TABITHA AT IVY HALL 53 


To Tabitha this seemed a very queer way 
for a father to act, but for big brother Tom it 
was perfectly natural; so in her scale of rela- 
tionship, Mr. Carson slipped down a peg and 
became a brother, bringing him much closer 
to her than he would otherwise have been, and 
making his influence over her much greater. 

At first the Carsons did not much favor the 
friendship that had sprung up between the two 
girls, for Tabitha seemed so wild and passion- 
ate they feared her association with their little 
daughter might not be for the best; but by 
chance the superintendent met Tom one day in 
the surveyor’s office, where the boy had found 
employment running errands and doing other 
odd jobs, and he was delighted with the un- 
usual intelligence of the lad, as well as with the 
ambition Tom had for an education. 

Like Tabitha, Tom craved fellowship with 
understanding people, and his appreciation of 
real kindness was as touching as it was keen. 
Mr. Carson made inquiry concerning the boy, 
learned the unfortunate circumstances of his 
starved life, and became his fast friend. So 
the two girls were allowed to play together un- 
restricted, each helping the other unconsciously 


54 TABITHA AT IVY HALL 


in the building of character, — Carrie being 
taught reliance and self-confidence, while 
Tabitha was learning to subdue the fierceness 
of her untamed nature and to overcome her 
extreme sensitiveness. 

Though Mr. Carson knew the truth about 
the unhappy names of brother and sister, he 
never so much as smiled, nor did he betray 
Tabitha’s secret; and while he never called 
Tom by the name she thought so grand, he al- 
ways addressed her as Theodora Gabrielle ; and 
she was happy. 

So for many precious weeks the world 
looked very bright to the black-eyed girl. The 
father was miles away most of the time, pros- 
pecting among the mountains; Aunt Maria 
seldom called her anything but Child; Tom’s 
pet name, when he forgot her grand title, was 
Puss ; and she began to think the hateful Tabi- 
tha was forever laid aside and forgotten. 

The dreariness of the desert which had so 
oppressed her when they first arrived in Silver 
Bow slipped from her; she forgot the lack of 
trees and grass; the yuccas and Spanish bay- 
onets lost their grimness ; she grew to like the 
queer place with its queer vegetation; and the 


TABITHA AT IVY HALL 55 


sunrises and sunsets were a source of intense 
delight to her, as they are to many another 
soul — for where in all the world are there such 
beautiful cloud pictures as on the desert with 
the mountains beyond, mysterious and wonder- 
ful in their purple haze or in the glistening 
white of the snow? 

The Catts arrived at Silver Bow only a few 
weeks before school began, and owing to the 
fact that the cottage they had rented stood 
half hidden from the rest of the town by one 
of the many hills, with only the Carson house 
and a vacant bungalow for neighbors, Tabitha 
made the acquaintance of none of the other 
children in town until the commencement of the 
fall term. Usually this was an event to be 
dreaded by the sensitive girl, but it was with a 
feeling almost of pleasure that Tabitha ac- 
companied pretty Carrie to the old weather- 
beaten schoolhouse of the mining camp the 
first Monday of September for the opening 
session. 

Tom was too far advanced for the branches 
taught in the little school, so he was to remain 
with the surveyor and study in the evening 
under Mr. Carson’s direction; but he knew 


56 TABITHA AT IVY HALL 


from former experience what a scene Tabitha 
usually created before she could be persuaded 
to begin school each year, and dreaded the or- 
deal almost as much as did the passionate little 
sister. 

Tabitha had confessed to Tom that Carrie 
called her by the wonderful name, Theodora 
Gabrielle, but he thought it was just in play 
and rejoiced that the superintendent’s charm- 
ing little daughter was so friendly and kind. 
He was unusually busy with his own thoughts 
and plans, for Mr. Carson had laid out a 
course of study for him by which he might 
prepare himself for college, the goal of his am- 
bitions ; and the world was looking very bright 
to him as well as to Tabitha, so perhaps he was 
excusable if he day-dreamed a little. But he 
never forgave himself for relaxing his vigi- 
lance over the small sister even in this slight 
measure, for it cost her many hours of bitter 
anguish. If only he had inquired about the 
name Tabitha had adopted, and discovered 
how real it had become! But intent upon his 
own thoughts, he missed this part of Tabitha’s 
confession, and watched her set out for school 
hand in hand with Carrie, serene in the belief 


TABITHA AT IVY HALL 57 


that all was well, and happy at her unexpected 
behavior in regard to school. 

“Well, I’m beat!” Aunt Maria exclaimed as 
the two girls skipped joyously up the path and 
disappeared over the summit of the hill. “I 
thought sure she’d raise a fuss, but she never 
said a word.” 

“She is so wrapped up in Carrie that she has 
forgotten all about her name,” answered Tom 
in his ignorance. 

The aunt sighed, “Well, it’s a shame she has 
to answer to it when she despises it so ; though 
I can’t see that it is much worse than Maria. I 
never paid much attention to my name that I 
remember. But if I’d had my way about it, 
I should have called you Peter Augustus, and 
her Aurora Isadena,” (she pronounced them 
“A-roo-rie Isi-deen-ie”) “but your pa had dif- 
ferent notions. Said he’d suffered torment all 
his days being called Manx Cat and he was 
going to get even with folks for once; though 
I can’t see how naming innocent children such 
names would help him any in his grouch 
against the world.” 

Neither could Tom, but it was seldom that 
Aunt Maria volunteered any information of 


58 TABITHA AT IVY HALL 


this sort, and he made the most of his opportu- 
nity by asking, ‘Ts Dad’s other name Lynne?” 

‘'Yes, but the boys plagued him when he was 
little calling him ‘lean cat,’ so he took to going 
by his middle name, Maximilian, but folks 
nicknamed that, too, and he got sulky.” Then 
as if fearing she had said too much, she added, 
“That assaying man will be looking for you if 
you don’t get up to the office pretty quick.” 

So though Tom had any quantity of ques- 
tions he wanted to ask, he put on his cap and 
left the house. The school-bell was ringing its 
final summons when he reached the top of the 
hill, and he paused to look down the steep slope 
into the yard where the children were march- 
ing in double file into the building, smiling as 
he saw Tabitha’s long, lean legs keeping step 
behind the short, plump ones of little Carrie, 
and mentally hoping that the day would go 
well with the little spitfire sister. 

It did. A bright-faced woman stood at her 
desk and received the children as they entered, 
shook hands with them and gave them their 
seats, smiling all the while until Tabitha 
thought she had never seen anyone so pretty, 
except Mrs. Carson. 


TABITHA AT IVY HALL 59 


“Now children, my name is Miss Brooks,” 
the new teacher began with an important air 
which would have told an older observer that 
this was her first experience in teaching. “I 
shall expect you always to address me in that 
manner. If I ask you a question, you must 
say, ‘Yes, Miss Brooks,’ or ‘No, Miss Brooks,’ 
for that is polite. Now, the first thing I in- 
tend to do this morning is to take down your 
names and get you classified. This little girl 
in the front seat of the outside row, what is 
your name?” 

“Theodora Marcella Gabrielle Julianna 
Victoria Emeline Catt, Miss Brooks.” Tabitha 
responded in one breath without a break, her 
voice ringing clearly through the silence of the 
room, for everyone was craning to see the new 
scholar and listening to catch her name. 

The teacher gasped, the children tittered, 
and Tabitha crimsoned angrily, but before she 
had even time to clench the little fists that were 
accustomed to fight her battles, Carrie saved 
the day. “That’s her whole name. Miss 
Brooks, but we call her just Theodora Gabri- 
elle. She is a lovely speaker.” 

The flush of annoyance on the teacher’s face 


60 TABITHA AT IVY HALL 


died instantly, and she smiled down into the 
beautiful eyes of the child before her as she 
said, “That is a very pretty name, I am sure. 
Now tell me where you are in your studies.” 

An answering smile came to Tabitha’s face, 
and she replied with more confidence, ‘TVe fin- 
ished United States history, which is grand, 
’specially Grant; I’ve reached Europe in geog- 
raphy, which isn’t bad; I’ve got to ‘emotion’ in 
language, which is horrid; and in ’rithmetic I 
am stuck in decimal fractions, which is the 
worst yet. My brother, Dionysius Ulysses 
Humphrey Llewelyn, taught me history when 
he was studying it. I hain’t had it in school 
yet.” 

This time the scholars as well as the teacher 
were silent in astonishment, but no one 
laughed; and seeing the surprised faces all 
around her, Tabitha again assumed a belliger- 
ent attitude, thinking they did not believe her. 

“Well, that’s so,” she exclaimed defiantly, 
glaring at the strange children. 

“Yes,” added Carrie, “and she has read 
through the Fourth Reader and knows lots of 
pieces. You ought to hear her speak Barbara 
Fritchie/^ 


TABITHA AT IVY HALL 61 

“But I’m an awful speller,” admitted the 
mollified Tabitha. 

At this the teacher smiled again, and laying 
her hand on the black head she said, “You are 
a little girl to be so far along in your lessons. 
I am afraid I can’t classify you just now. We 
will have to wait until I get the other girls and 
boys arranged according to studies, and then 
we will see where to put you. Now, children, 
I hope you will follow Theodora Gabrielle’s 
example and study hard.” 

“Teacher’s pet,” whispered the boy across 
the aisle, but Tabitha was soaring in the realms 
of bliss and the teacher’s smile, so she did not 
hear or care what the others might say. The 
world was growing very bright and she was 
finding how sweet the days could be. 



CHAPTER IV 

THE NAME CAUSES TABITHA TROUBLE 

‘‘Tabitha!’’ 

The child was curled in a forlorn heap on 
the little front stoop which took the place of 
piazza to their cottage, staring with gloomy 
eyes toward the radiant sunset, but for once 
unaware of the glorious beauty of the skies. 
Her heart was very heavy. In two days more 
the school was to give their first exhibition — 
that was what Miss Brooks called it — in the 
town hall; and all the parents and friends were 
invited to come and hear them speak the pieces 
and sing the songs they had been learning ever 
since school had commenced, six weeks before. 
Miss Brooks thought it helped the scholars to 
have public exercises occasionally, for it 
brought the parents in closer touch with their 
boys and girls and encouraged the children to 
do better work; so she had planned to have 
these exhibitions every six weeks or two 
months in the town hall. The school house was 

63 


64 TABITHA AT IVY HALL 


too small to seat many visitors if all the schol- 
ars were present. 

Tabitha was to recite a long selection all by 
herself, and she had taken great pride in learn- 
ing it with appropriate gestures, conscious of 
the fact that she was the best speaker in the 
room, and happy in the teacher’s unstinted 
praise and her playmates’ envious admiration. 

But now! Miss Brooks had asked the girls 
to wear white dresses, and Tabitha had none! 
What a calamity! She had expected to wear 
her new green gingham. It wasn’t a very 
pretty color, to be sure, or very becoming, but 
she had coaxed Aunt Maria to make it after 
the fashion of Carrie’s dainty dresses and was 
delighted with the result. Now the rest of the 
girls would be in white, and it would look 
dreadful to have one green dress in the 
splendid array on the platform. What could 
she do? 

It was useless to ask for a white gown, and 
even if there were any possibility of getting 
the new material it was too late to make it up 
in time for the exhibition, for Aunt Maria 
wasn’t a great success as a seamstress, and it 
took her a long time to make a dress. Why, 


TABITHA AT IVY HALL 65 


she had worked more than a week on the green 
gingham, and that was just tucked! If there 
could be a white dress it would have to have 
ruffles on it; all the other girls’ white dresses 
had ruffles on them somewhere. Carrie’s had 
two ruffles on the skirt, and Mamie Cole’s had 
three, Bertha Dean’s had only one ruffle 
around the shoulders and the skirt was tucked, 
but it was very pretty ; and if Tabitha could not 
have ruffles on the skirt, she would want at 
least a shoulder ruffle with lace around it. 
Well, there was no use in planning, she could 
not have a white dress. But how could she 
face all those people in a green gingham and 
be the only odd girl there? 

“Tabitha Catt!” The voice was sharp and 
insistent, and at the sound of the hateful name 
almost forgotten now, the child came suddenly 
out of her unhappy reverie. 

“What is it. Aunt Maria?” 

“Where in the world have you been? IVe 
called you half a dozen times already. Go to 
my trunk and bring me that box of odd pieces 
just under the tray. I want to mend this dress 
before dark. Mind you are careful now. The 
tray is broken; lift it carefully.” 


66 TABITHA AT IVY HALL 


Tabitha rose slowly to do her bidding, still 
thinking of the dress she did not have. Under 
ordinary circumstances she considered it a 
great honor to be allowed even to lift the cover 
of the big, old trunk in the corner, for it con- 
tained many wonderful relics for childish eyes, 
and sometimes Aunt Maria would let her look 
at some of the treasures, and even tell her a 
little about them on rare occasions. Today, 
however, even this prospect was not alluring, 
and with listless hands Tabitha pulled the rick- 
ety tray out of its place and bent over the 
trunk in search of the box in question. There 
were several boxes under the tray, but Aunt 
Maria never remembered this, and it was al- 
ways necessary to open them to discover which 
was the one wanted. So the child seized the 
nearest and pulled off the cover. No pieces in 
that. But in the act of replacing the cover she 
noticed something shining in a mass of white, 
and paused to investigate. It- was a string of 
glistening beads, and as she lifted them from 
their crushed tissue wrappings there lay dis- 
closed the shimmering folds of a white silk 
dress, carefully laid away with dried “Sweet 
Mary” leaves. 


TABITHA AT IVY HALL 67 


“Child, are you making those pieces?’’ The 
girl started guiltily, dropped the cover over 
the box and pulled open its neighbor. There 
were the scraps Aunt Maria wanted, and with 
these in her hands she scurried out into the 
kitchen where the fussy old lady sat sewing in 
the waning light. 

“There are seven boxes just imder the tray, 
Aunt Maria,” she announced. ‘T opened the 
wrong one by mistake, and there was a silk 
dress inside.” She hesitated, not knowing 
how to ask for the information she desired, for 
the aunt, like the father, never encouraged the 
asking of questions. 

“That was my first silk dress,” the woman 
said reminiscently. “My grandfather gave it 
to me when I was a little girl so I could go to 
my favorite aunt’s wedding. I never wore it 
but twice, for my mother did not believe in fin- 
ery for children, and this being white, she was 
afraid it would get soiled. Did you close that 
trunk?” 

Tabitha went back to put things in order 
again, but could not resist one more peep at 
the enticing box. How beautiful the silk 
looked, and how daintily it was made ! To be 


68 TABITHA AT IVY HALL 


sure, there were no ruffles adorning the soft 
folds, but the bottom of the skirt was beauti- 
fully scalloped, so even and nice, and each 
scallop bound with a narrow strip of the same 
material. 

She lifted the dress out of its box and 
looked at it with shining eyes. How rich one 
must be to own a silk dress ! How she wished 
it belonged to her! If it had been hers, she 
should have worn it more than twice — such 
a dainty, pretty thing as that — and it was 
white. White? Yes. And she wanted a 
white dress so much. 

“Tabitha!” 

“Yes, Aunt Maria.” 

“What are you doing? I want you to set 
the table. It is almost supper time and 
Thomas will soon be here.” 

Tabitha dropped the dress hastity on the rug 
beside the trunk, put the cover on the empty 
box and slipped it back in its place with the 
other six. Down went the tray on top of them, 
the lid of the trunk fell vdth a snap, and the 
white silk dress was no longer inside. With 
beating heart and red face she carried the gar- 
ment into her own tiny room and hung it in 


TABITHA AT IVY HALL 69 

the very darkest corner of the closet. Then 
she ran to set the table. 

How the next day ever passed she never 
knew, for before her eyes wherever she looked 
danced that lovely, quaint old gown of shim- 
mering silk, and she could think of nothing 
else. It hid the map of Europe when she 
opened her geography, it played leap-frog 
among common fractions when she tried to do 
her sums, it waved at the head of the Conti- 
nental Army while she led those brave men to 
victory, and when it came to spelling class she 
could think of nothing but “s-i-l-k.’’ 

But Exhibition Day came at last. Aunt 
Maria was not going, as Tabitha well knew, so 
would not see her in the borrowed gown until 
too late to raise any objections. She had no 
intention of w^earing the dress without Aunt 
Maria’s knowledge, but she did intend to w^ear 
it first, and tell about it afterwards, accepting 
whatever punishment the w^oman saw fit to 
give her for the transgression. So she smug- 
gled the gown out of the house in her school- 
bag, and up among the tall boulders beyond 
the Carson place, where there was no possi- 
bility of anyone finding her. Here she 


70 TABITHA AT IVY HALL 


dressed, and under one great rock hid the once 
admired but now despised green gingham. 
Then with her long cape covering her quaintly 
gowned figure, she hurried up to Carrie’s door 
to call for her playmate, having waited until 
the last minute in the hope that her friends 
would be gone. Nor was she disappointed. 
The doors were locked and no one came to an- 
swer her knock; so with flying feet she sped 
toward the hall, noting that only a few people 
were bound in that direction, and knowing that 
most of the expected visitors were already 
seated within. 

“Oh, Theodora Gabrielle!” exclaimed the 
teacher as the child flew up the aisle to her 
place on the platform, “I was so afraid some- 
thing had happened to keep you away. It 
would never do to have our best speaker ab- 
sent, you know;” and she smiled into the shin- 
ing black* eyes of the breathless Tabitha; but 
the next instant the smile faded. Tabitha had 
loosened her cape, and Miss Brooks cauglit 
sight of the quaint, queer old gown under- 
neath. “Child!” she cried involuntarily. 
“Whatever possessed you to put on that rig?” 

The beloved silk dress called a “rig!” Tabi- 


TABITHA AT IVY HALL 71 


tha was dismayed, and the tears came welling 
into the bright eyes, as with quivering lip she 
confessed, “It v/as the only white dress I could 
get. Miss Brooks. I thought it would be very 
’propriate, for I am to speak a war piece, you 
know. Aunt Maria had this when she was a 
little girl, and she must be pretty much older 
than the war.” 

‘T meant that the silk was too good for com- 
mon wear, dear,” fibbed the teacher, seeing the 
sorrow in the thin, brown, wistful face. “It is 
a pretty idea to wear a dress that was made in 
war times, and I never would have thought of 
it myself. But we must take off the ribbons 
from your hair, Theodora, and fix it in the old- 
fashioned way to go with your gown. I re- 
member a picture of my mother with her hair 
done in the queerest braids. Come, we will 
have to hurry.” 

As this inspiration flashed through the 
young teacher’s mind, sl:te saw a way out of the 
dilemma so that neither child nor school should 
be ridiculed because of Tabitha’s mistake; and 
she hurriedly completed the small girl’s “war 
times toilette” so that when Tabitha emerged 
from under her skillful hands she was the ad- 


72 TABITHA AT IVY HALL 


miration and envy of all her mates. And truly 
she presented a pretty picture as she stood be- 
fore the none too critical audience and recited 
Sheridans Ride with such vim and spirit that 
every heart was fired with patriotism and the 
applause was so prolonged that Miss Brooks 
told her she must speak another piece, even 
though it was not on the program. Purposely 
the teacher had left Tabitha’s part in the ex- 
ercises well toward the last, knowing that she 
could be depended upon to make a fitting cli- 
max for the afternoon’s program, nor was she 
disappointed; and she fairly beamed upon the 
little girl as she gently pushed her toward the 
front of the platform to respond to her encore. 

Having done so well with one war piece, 
Tabitha decided that Barbara Fritchie w^as a 
most appropriate selection to recite this second 
time, besides being quite in keeping with her 
old-fashioned dress. So she began the familiar 
lines : 

Up from the meadow rich with corn 

Clear in the cool September mom. 

The clustered spires of Frederick stand 

Green-walled by the hills of JVIaryland. 


TABITHA AT IVY HALL 73 


How she loved that poem, how vividly the 
whole scene seemed to lie before her, and how 
her very soul thrilled as she gave life to the 
stirring words! 

Quick, as it fell, from the broken staff 

Dame Barbara snatched the silken scarf. 

She leaned far out on the window-sill. 

And shook it forth with a royal will. 

Suddenly from among the audience one face 
seemed to leap before her eyes, — white, set, 
terrified. Tom! And beside him, leaning for- 
ward as he stood near the door, his face' grim 
and threatening, was her father! Her sur- 
roundings were forgotten; she seemed to be 
standing beside the dusty road again with a 
pail of blackberries at her feet; and with gaze 
rivetted upon those two figures in the back of 
the hall, she recited : 

Slap, if you dare, you old gray head. 

I’ll scratch like a — cat — till you’ll wish you 
were dead. 

Was there a titter behind her, were the faces 
in the audience smiling? Was Miss Brooks 
speaking her name, were someone’s arms 


74 TABITHA AT IVY HALL 


around her trying to drag her to her seat? It 
seemed an age that she stood there, words 
frozen on her lips, heart that seemed to have 
ceased its beating, and eyes that looked with- 
out seeing. Then, pausing for neither hat nor 
cape, she plunged down from the platform, 
fled blindly through the aisle and rushed out 
of the open door. 

Up the rocky path she stumbled, but 
stopped on the summit of the first rise. What 
was the use of running away? He would find 
her and the punishment would come sooner or 
later. It might as well come now and be over 
with. Up on the nearest boulder she crept and 
waited, a heap of frozen misery. Would he re- 
main until the exercises were over? How 
would he punish her? 

The waiting was short, although to her it 
seemed hours before the parents and children 
came out of the hall and dispersed to their vari- 
ous homes. A few passed her on the trail, but 
she did not see them — not even Carrie, sobbing 
aloud as she stumbled along beside her mother. 

When they were all gone, her father sud- 
denty stood before her. When he came, or 
how he got there, she did not know. 


TABITHA AT IVY HALL 75 


“Tabitha Catt,” she heard his even tones 
saying, “get down from there.” 

She slid to the ground beside him. 

“Come with me.” 

She turned and followed him, not down the 
hill to the cottage as she had expected, but back 
towards town. The day was warm, but she 
was shivering violently, and even her teeth 
chattered until it seemed as if the silent man at 
her side could not fail to hear them. 

“What have you told these people your 
name was?” the same even tones demanded. 

“Theodora Marcella Gabrielle Julianna 
Victoria Emeline. I never told anyone but 
Carrie and Miss Brooks.” 

A glimmer of a smile played around the 
man’s stern mouth, hidden by his moustache. 

“And Tom’s? What name did you give 
Tom?” 

“Dionysius Ulysses Humphrey Llewelyn.” 

“Hm, not as long as yours.” 

“He thought it would do. I had some more 
he might have had.” 

“So he called himself that jargon, did he?” 

“Oh, no! He couldn’t remember them. 
That was just my nanne for him.” 


76 TABITHA AT IVY HALL 


“Well, Miss Tabitha Catt, you have told 
these people a lie/' 

Lie? Tabitha was startled. Lie? Was it 
a lie to change one's name — just one's first 
name? It had not appealed to her in that light 
before. But the relentless voice was still 
speaking. What was it saying? 

“You have stolen your aunt’s dress — ” 

<< j >> 

“Not a word yet, Tabitha Catt. When I 
have finished, you will have a chance to ex- 
plain. You are to go to every store and hotel 
in this town and say — ^listen now, so 3 ^ou will 
get it straight, T told you a lie. My name is 
Tabitha Catt and not Theodora Marcella Ga- 
brielle Julianna Victoria Emeline; and my 
brother’s name is Thomas Catt and not Diony- 
sius Ulysses Humphrey Llewelyn.’ Now go, 
and don’t you miss a single store.” 

The child’s black eyes flashed dangerously, 
but she obediently started down the main 
street of the town, counting on her fingers, 
“Two drug stores, three grocery stores — no, 
four — one butcher shop, two dry goods stores, 
one millinery shop, three hotels and the bak- 
ery.” 


TABITHA AT IVY HALL 77 


The first in line was a hotel, Silver Bow 
Hotel, the largest in town, and the office was 
crowded when she entered. Every head was 
lifted and every pair of eyes looked curiously 
at the odd little figure in its quaintly scalloped 
dress and shining black braids. She hesitated, 
looked about her in desperation, saw no famil- 
iar face in all the crowd, and haltingly began 
her dreadful speech : 

‘T told you a lie. JNIy name is Tabitha 
Catt — ’’ Someone interrupted with a mock- 
ing laugh. She wheeled toward him, shook 
her tightly clenched fist, and with blazing eyes 
continued, “and not Theodora Marcella Ga- 
brielle Julianna Victoria Emeline; and my 
brother’s name is Thomas Catt and not Dio- 
nysius Ulysses Humphrey Llewelyn. My fa- 
ther’s name is Lynne Maximilian Catt, but you 
can call him Jedn Manx Catt;’ he doesn’t like 
it, but it ain’t any worse than ours. I have an 
Aunt Maria.” She turned as if to go, but 
paused to throw back over her shoulder, “My 
mother’s name was Theodora Marcella. She 
was a decent woman. The good die young.” 
With a profound bow she was gone before the 
spell-bound group had recovered their breath 


78 TABITHA AT IVY HALL 


The next place was a grocery store, and 
though near the supper hour, it chanced to be 
empty, except for the proprietor, whom she 
knew, and with him for her audience she spoke 
her little piece again, omitting none of it, and 
leaving him in a state of utter bewilderment. 
On down the long street she went, into every 
store and shop. Sometimes the people laughed 
at her, but more often absolute silence greeted 
her speech, for her eyes burned like live coals 
and her thin face was pale as death, except for 
a scarlet spot high on either cheek. In one 
shop she saw Miss Brooks, but though the 
teacher pitied the child with all her heart, and 
longed to comfort her, she knew this was no 
time to say anything, and was silent with the 
rest. 

So at last the terrible ordeal was over and 
Tabitha dragged her feet we^arily up the last 
slope toward home. Her father met her where 
she had left him, and greeted her with the re- 
mark, “Now, what have you to say for your- 
self, Tabitha Catt?” 

She lifted her eyes full of scorching scorn 
and looked straight into his face so like her 
own, as she replied with passionate emphasis. 


TABITHA AT IVY HALL 79 


'‘That you’re a beast, lean Manx Catt, and I’m 
ashamed of you !” 

“She’s right,” he said to himself, and in 
silence followed the fleeing form through the 
sunset glow toward home. 


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CHAPTER V 


TABITHA IS COMFORTED 

Tom had preceded her to the house and evi- 
dently had told Aunt Maria, for when the child 
burst into the kitchen trailing the green ging- 
ham which she had picked up on her way, the 
worthy woman said never a word of reproach, 
but with trembling fingers helped her out of 
the queer little rig and laid it away herself 
among its crumpled wrappings, while down 
her withered cheek stole two tears of pity for 
the unhappy Tabitha. 

“Supper is all ready. Come and have some-: 
thing to eat. I opened a jar of jam just for 
you.” 

Tabitha shook her head, but gave her aunt a 
grateful look as she rushed away to her room, 
slammed the door and crawled into bed, where 
she lay trembling with anger and humiliation 
too great for tears. The beauty of the day 
was gone, her pride in her school achievements 
was ruthlessly swept away, happiness in these 
new surroundings was dead. 

81 


82 TABITHA AT IVY HALL 


Her father had said she lied, he had made 
her tell everyone so, they would hate her now 
and have nothing to do with her, or else they 
would make the days miserable by rude taunts 
and hateful jeers as the children in other towns 
had done. Miss Brooks would be disappointed 
in her and give her only cold looks and maybe 
cross words. Probably even Carrie would no 
longer care to be her friend. At this thought 
the tears came, hot, passionate and bitter, and 
she sobbed convulsively under the pillow where 
she hid her head that no one might hear. It 
seemed as if her heart would break. Poor lit- 
tle Tabitha! 

Outside the sunset colors faded, the twilight 
deepened and night came on. The birds twit- 
tered sleepily in their nests, a night-hawk 
screeched across the sky, in the distance the 
coyotes howled dismally, and the ceaseless 
throbbing of the mines filled the desert quiet. 

In the kitchen Aunt Maria clattered nerv- 
ously around, upset dishes, spilled the tea, 
burned the toast and forgot the potatoes en- 
tirely, for her perplexed thoughts were ^vith 
the sobbing child in bed; and the minute the 
remnants of the evening meal were cleared 


TABITHA AT IVY HALL 83 


away, the woman vanished into her room for 
the night. 

Tom tried to eat his supper, but the food 
choked him, and finding rest impossible at the 
house, he went out of doors and up the slope to 
the office, hopeful of finding work there to take 
his attention; but the door was locked. He 
turned toward town with its dim, scattered 
lights, but they mocked him, and everywhere 
he looked he saw only the strained face of terri- 
fied Tabitha, seeming to reproach him for his 
relaxed vigilance, and he blamed himself bit- 
terly for the calamity the day had brought 
upon her. At last he crept home again and 
went to bed, where in the anguish of his spirit, 
boy though he was, he dampened the pillow 
with a few salty tears. 

But strange as it may seem, Mr. Catt had 
the worst time of all. For the first time in all 
his selfish life he seemed to see things as they 
really were and to realize, in a measure, what a 
failure he had made of his fatherhood. His 
slumbering conscience was roused and for a 
few hours he had an uncomfortable struggle 
with himself; but though he regretted his 
harshness, the habits of a lifetime are not laid 


84 TABITHA AT IVY HALL 


aside in a moment, and in the end he regarded 
himself as more sinned against than sinning. 

If only Fortune had favored him as it had 
some other people — if only his wife had been 
spared him — if only friends had been true to 
him, it might have been different. Maybe he 
had been too severe with the girl, but she must 
be taught obedience. She was too much of a 
spitfire already, and there was no telling what 
she might do if some restraint was not put 
upon her. Still, perhaps a lighter punishment 
would have served the purpose just as well. 
She was a bright child; yes, he would admit 
that. Maybe if she had looked a little more 
like the angel mother — and yet sometimes he 
could scarcely bear to look at the boy because 
in Tom’s face he saw so often the warm ten- 
derness that had endeared the mother to all 
who knew her, and the deep, soft brown eyes 
that always looked straight in one’s face 
seemed to reproach him for his sternness and 
neglect. He had mourned because the boy 
had not inherited the black hair and eyes and 
the disposition of the Catts, and now he was 
sorry because the girl had. He sighed; 
if only— 


TABITHA AT IVY HALL 85 


From the next room came a deep, heavy, 
sobbing sigh, as if an echo of his. Tabitha had 
at last fallen asleep and in her slumber had 
tossed aside the suffocating pillow from her 
hot, throbbing head. He sat looking at the 
closed door for some minutes; then, hardly 
knowing why he did so, he rose and entered her 
room. 

She was still lying in a huddled heap, face 
down upon the mattress, but her head was 
turned to one side, exposing the flushed, tear- 
stained cheek and swollen lids where the tears 
were scarcely dry. One thin arm was still 
curved beneath her head, but the other had 
slipped away from her face and lay stretched 
across the covers, the hand still loosely clutch- 
ing a damp ball of handkerchief. The pa- 
thetic little figure, still quivering convulsively 
with every breath, touched the heart of the sel- 
fish man, and drawing a five-dollar gold piece 
from his pocket he slipped it inside the moist, 
brown fist. Then, as if realizing what a pal- 
try thing gold is in comparison with love, he 
stooped over the flushed face and kissed it 
gently, — ^the first kiss he had ever given his lit- 
tle daughter. She stirred, and the coin slipped 


86 TABITHA AT IVY HALL 


from her hand, but in his hasty retreat from 
the room he did not hear it fall to the floor, roll 
across the light matting and lodge in a crack 
out of sight. So he stilled the small, inner 
voice, and going to his room sought his couch 
almost satisfied with himself. 

The next morning when Tabitha awoke he 
was gone again, back to the mines and their 
alluring gold, little realizing what a sore heart 
he had left behind him in the cottage on the 
desert. At first she could not think what had 
happened to leave such a heavy weight on her 
heart that the very atmosphere seemed charged 
with grief, but as she rubbed the sleep from her 
eyes, still hot and stinging from her cry, she 
remembered the whole dreadful story, and in 
the sympathetic pillow she again buried her 
face, too humiliated to meet the world, too dis- 
couraged to care. 

She heard the clock on the mantel strike 
seven and lay dreading the call to get up. In 
the kitchen Aunt Maria was busy bustling 
about the morning work, getting breakfast, 
washing the dishes and sweeping. Once she 
heard Tom’s voice, but though she strained her 
ears, she could catch the sound of no answering 
tones. 


TABITHA AT IVY HALL 87 


The clock struck eight. Aunt Maria never 
let her stay in bed that late, even on Sundays, 
when they all slept a little longer than usual. 
There was a knock at the kitchen door. Could 
it be Carrie on her way to school? Not very 
likely, as the Carson house was nearer town 
than their cottage, and it was always her place 
to call for Carrie. Besides, Carrie was never 
ready on time, and they always had to hurry to 
reach school before the last bell rang. Still, 
she held her breath expectantly when steps ap- 
proached her door, and her heart sank when 
they stopped and no one entered. 

Carrie? What could she be thinking of — 
she, who had told a lie, deceived people? 
Could she expect Carrie to call for her? Could 
she expect Carrie to be her friend after all that 
had happened ? Down went her head into the 
pillow again and the hot tears flowed in a bitter 
flood. 

The screen door banged, Tom had gone to 
work. The clock struck nine. There came an- 
other knock at the door, louder than the previ- 
ous one, and for a long time she could hear 
Aunt Maria’s voice speaking in low tones to 
someone who evidently stood on the steps out- 
side. 


88 TABITHA AT IVY HALL 


Somewhere a sharp whistle sounded, and she 
flew up in bed startled to hear the clock on the 
mantel counting off the hour of twelve. She 
must have been asleep. Yes, she surely had 
been, for on the chair beside her bed stood a 
tray heaped high with bread and butter, cake 
and jam. A glass of milk was there also, and 
she drank it eagerly, for she was thirsty; but 
she could not touch the food. 

So the long day passed. Once Tom slipped 
in and bent over her, but her eyes were closed, 
and thinking her asleep, he left a golden or- 
ange beside her and went away. Once Aunt 
Maria asked her if she didn’t feel able to dress 
and go out of doors for the fresh air, but she 
turned wearily away and hid her face in the 
pillow, her only refuge. 

The second morning someone had left her 
door ajar, and she heard Aunt Maria say to 
Tom, ‘T don’t know what in the world to do 
with her. She will be sick if she stays that 
way much longer.” 

And in Tabitha’s heart sprang the fierce 
longing to be sick, very sick, so sick that they 
would have to take her away from this horrible 


TABITHA AT IVY HALL 89 


desert town. She had heard of such things 
happening; perhaps — 

Tom’s voice interrupted her thoughts. 

‘Tt is all my fault, Aunt Maria. She told 
me about the name, but I didn’t pay enough 
attention to know that she had really taken it 
in place of her own. I ought to be thrashed 
instead of her being punished. Now she won’t 
look at me or listen to me any more.” 

Tom took all the blame! Why, she had 
never for a moment thought of such a thing! 
It wasnt his fault, she would tell him so. 

“Tom!” 

The scraping of his chair as he pushed it 
back from the table drowned the sound of her 
voice, and before she could call again he was 
gone. She jumped out of bed, threw on her 
clothes, and stopping only long enough to 
brush back her tangled hair, she rushed out of 
the house and up the hill toward the office of 
the surveyor. 

Tom was standing by the big draughting 
table lettering a map, the surveyor was busy 
with some blueprints in the window, and Mr. 
Carson sat near by with a notebook in hand 
which he was searching industriously. All this 


90 TABITHA AT IVY HALL 


Tabitha saw as she stumbled over the threshold, 
but without heeding either of the two men, she 
cast herself into Tom’s arms with the wail, “O, 
Tom, you ain’t to blame, and you don’t deserve 
to be thrashed! I told a lie and I stole the 
white silk dress with those lovely scallops. But 
those were such grand names — yours ’specially, 
though mine was longer — and oh, I hate being 
a cat all my life! I said more’n Dad gave me 
to say and I told folks that his name was ‘lean 
Manx Catt,’ and I told ’em Aunt Maria’s 
name. Miss Brooks won’t like me any more, 
and I expect Carrie hate me, too.” 

There was a stifled exclamation — she 
thought from Tom — then two strong arms 
closed around her, and she found herself cry- 
ing into someone’s vest pocket, but it wasn’t 
Tom’s. He had not yet attained the dignity 
of vests. Surprised, she hushed her sobs, 
though she still clung to the protecting arms, 
and in a moment she heard Tom say, “She will 
be all right now, sir. I will take her home.” 

But the big arms only held her closer and 
Mr. Carson’s voice, trembling a little and 
husky with emotion, replied, “I want her for 
a little while, Tom. Leave her with me.” 


TABITHA AT IVY HALL 91 


Laying aside the notebook with its fascinat- 
ing rows of figures, the man led the amazed 
child out of the building and down the steep 
rocky path toward the Carson home, holding 
her hand fast in his own, and speaking gently, 
cheerily as they walked. 

“It was all a mistake, little girl, and every- 
one makes mistakes. It wasn’t a lie and it 
wasn’t stealing. You ought to have asked 
someone about it and everything would have 
been all right, but you mustn’t ciy about it any 
more. Carrie loves you just the same and so 
does Mother Carson and so do I. I don’t 
think Tabitha is a honad name — ” 

“But Tabitha Cattr quavered the tearful 
little voice. “Folks make fun of me and say 
hateful things and call me Tabby Catt — ” 
“Tabby cats are such nice pets,” the man in- 
terrupted, “so gentle and nice and pretty.” 

“But I’m homely. If I was pretty maybe 
they wouldn’t call me names.” 

“No, dear, it isn’t that. When they plague 
you, you scratch ; and so they like to tease. If 
you paid no attention to the thoughtless things 
they said, they would soon stop teasing.” 

“Do you really think they would? I 


92 TABITHA AT IVY HALL 


thought it was because of the name. No one 
teased me much when my name was Theodora 
Marcella Gabrielle Julianna Victoria Erne- 
line.” 

He smiled. The name sounded so per- 
fectly incongruous for that slender slip of 
girl, more so than the despised Tabitha ; but he 
understood what a charm the long, rhythmic 
words held for the child who had missed so 
much happiness in her short life, so he gravely 
answered, 

‘T am sure if you try to laugh with those 
who make fun of you, and won’t get mad no 
matter what they say, they will soon forget all 
about the odd little name and will love you for 
what you are.” 

“That will be awfully hard to do,” sighed 
Tabitha, thinking of the many times she had 
been tormented because of that name, “but if 
— ^you think it will work, — I’ll try.” 

Before he had a chance to say anything fur- 
ther, the door of the Carson house flew open 
and happy-faced Carrie flew up the path to 
meet them, crying joyously, “Miss Brooks is 
here, and she wants to see you, ’cause we’ve 
missed you dreadfully at school.” 


CHAPTER VI 


A DOG AND A CAT 

“Oh, Tabitha, Tabitha, coDie over to my 
house and see what papa has brought me!'’ 

Carrie’s voice was shrill with joy; and has- 
tily setting the last cup on the pantry shelf, 
Tabitha seized her sunbonnet and rushed away 
to join her excited playmate. “It’s out here 
on the back porch, and oh, it’s a perfect dar- 
ling! Tell me what to call him. Isn’t he a 
beauty?” 

Talking and laughing and capering in de- 
light, Carrie led the way to the rear of the 
house, and there in a box on the steps was a 
beautiful, black, shaggy pup, with the longest, 
silkiest hair and the prettiest brown eyes. 

“Oh, Carrie Carson, aren’t you the luckiest 
girl!” cried Tabitha, looking enviously at the 
treasure as she bent over it to smooth the soft, 
shaggy coat. “Just see what beau-ti-ful ears 
he has! And what a cunning nose! See him 
lick my hand!” 


93 


94 TABITHA AT IVY HALL 


“He’s kissing you. Isn’t he cute? One of 
papa’s men at the mine owned four of these 
little pups, and he sold this one for five dollars. 
He is to be my very own and I am going to 
teach him tricks when he is old enough. Isn’t 
he a darling?” 

“I should say he is! I wish he belonged to 
me.” The black eyes grew very wistful and 
the brown face unusually sober as she exam- 
ined this new toy, this live toy that could really 
play with its little mistress and understand, at 
least in a measure, whatever was said to it. 

Carrie saw the longing glance and promptly 
said, “You can play with him, too. Puss, and 
help me teach him things, — to speak when he 
wants something to eat, and to bring us sticks 
or stones when we throw them for him to chase, 
and to jump through barrel hoops, and to 
shake hands, and to walk on his hind legs like 
Jimmy’s dog. Sport, does, and to play sleep, 
and to stand on his hind legs — ” 

“That will be ever so nice, but it isn’t the 
same as if he was mine, Carrie,” interrupted 
the mournful Tabitha, completely wrapped up 
in this tiny specimen of puppyhood. 

“No — that’s so,” answered the other child 


TABITHA AT IVY HALL 95 


thoughtfully, watching the precious possession 
with jealous eyes as it curled up in Tabitha’s 
arms and shut its eyes for a nap. 

“He likes me already, doesn’t he? I’ve al- 
ways wanted a pet, but we’ve never stayed long 
enough in one place to have anything of this 
kind. I had a rabbit once, but a dog caught 
it, and I cried so hard Aunt Maria said I never 
should have another.” 

“I’ll tell you what! Part of this dog can be 
yours,” said Carrie generously, though it cost 
her an effort to speak those words. 

“Oh, Carrie, you don’t mean that?” cried 
the astonished Tabitha. “Really own part of 
your beautiful pup? What will your father 
and mother say?” 

“They won’t care a bit. The dog is all mine 
to do what I like with, and I like to give you 
a share of him. Course he will live here, and 
I will feed him, so papa can tell me what to 
give him, as pups are very hard to raise prop- 
erly and it takes someone that knows how to 
do it. But you can really, truly own half of 
him.” 

“What a good girl you are, Carrie!” ex- 
claimed the other part owner, much impressed 


96 TABITHA AT IVY HALL 


at Carrie’s grand air of knowledge. “If I had 
a dog all my own, I’m afraid I’d never want 
to share him with anyone else, except to play 
with. I’d want to keep all the ownership my- 
self.” 

“Well, it would be different with you. All 
the pets you ever have had was a bunny, while 
I’ve had a Shetland pony until we came up 
here on the desert where there isn’t anything 
for him to eat, and a little lamb out on grand- 
ma’s farm, and two brown hens, and a pair of 
doves, and three kitties, and this makes the sec- 
ond dog.” 

“Oh!” 

“That’s a lot of pets to have one person own, 
isn’t it? But they didn’t all belong to me at 
the same time, and this dog is the best of them 
all — except the pony. Dear little Arrow is at 
grandma’s house now and when I go back to 
town to live, if I’m not too big I am to have 
her again.” 

“What a cute name for a pony! What are 
you going to call this pup ?” 

“I had thought of Ponto, but papa says he 
will grow up into a big dog, and he thought 
General would be a nice name.” 


TABITHA AT IVY HALL 97 


‘T like Ponto best, I believe. It has a 
grander sound to it than General. And yet — 
can I name my half of the dog, too?” as a sud- 
den inspiration came to her mind. 

“Why — ^yes — if it fits in with General,” a 
little doubtfully, for Carrie’s ideas of beauti- 
ful names differed materially from Tabitha’s. 

“It will go with it splendidly — Sheridan 
Sherman Grant McClellan.” 

“Which one?” 

“All of them. That ain’t too many, is it? 
I do like all those generals so much, and I 
should hate to have to drop any of them.” 

“It’s an awfully long name to say when you 
want to call a dog,” said the first little mistress 
reflectively, yet afraid to suggest the curtail- 
ing of it for fear of wounding her playmate. 

“But you can shorten it up like — like I did 
once with — ” The unhappy episode was still 
very fresh in her mind, and her heart still very 
sore; so she hesitated, unwilling to recall it 
further. 

“I know,” interrupted sympathetic Carrie 
hastily. “We cap shorten it to General Sheri- 
dan or General — what would you shorten it 
to?” 


98 TABITHA AT IVY HALL 


“General McClellan is the grandest sound- 
ing name, but General Grant is the easiest to 
say, and I suppose a dog ought to be called the 
easiest name so he can remember it. We’ll 
call him General Grant.” 

The dog was named. 

That evening Tabitha was sitting on the 
steps studying her geography when Tom came 
home late for supper, but every moment or two 
she would look up from her books toward the 
Carson house, and stare intently at something 
he could not see, while she seemed to be listen- 
ing for something he could not hear. From his 
seat at the table he could watch her unobserved, 
and when at last he had satisfied his appetite, 
he joined her on the steps, asking curiously, 
“What’s the matter. Puss? Geography doesn’t 
seem to be interesting you.” 

“Oh, Tom, it’s the pup! Carrie has the 
dearest little shaggy dog. She said I might 
be part owner of it, and we’ve named him 
General Sheridan Sherman Grant McClellan. 
General is her name for him, and the rest is 
mine. It’s most too long to say the whole of it 
every time we want him to come, so we are 


TABITHA AT IVY HALL 99 


going to call him General Grant for short. 
Isn’t that a nice name?” 

“Well, I should say so. The General no 
doubt would be flattered if he could know.” 

“He’s an awfully pretty pup and will make 
a great big dog when he’s grown up. His feet 
are dreadfully big, but Mr. Carson says he will 
need them some day, and all big dogs have big 
feet when they are little. Carrie wanted to 
name him Ponto, but her father thought Gen- 
eral sounded more dignifled for such a big dog. 
Ponto is a pretty name, though, and if I had a 
pup all of my own I’d call him — Say, Tom, 
do you suppose Dad would let me have a dog 
for my very own self? It’s nice to own part 
of one, but think how much better it would be 
if I had a whole one. Then Carrie wouldn’t 
have to share hers, and I really think she would 
rather own all of General Grant herself. If I 
asked Dad, do you suppose he would say yes?” 

“I’m sure I don’t know. Puss, but I am 
afraid not. We had a pup once when I was 
small, and it chewed up everything it could get 
hold of. I had a little suit of black velvet — I 
remember it was the first I ever had with pock- 


100 TABITHA AT IVY HALL 


ets in it — and one day the pup got hold of it 
and tore it all to pieces. Dad gave him away 
at last because he did so much damage.” 

“What was its name?” 

“Pinto.” 

“Why, isn’t that funny — almost the name 
Carrie wanted ! If I had a dog, Tom, I should 
name him Pinto Ponto Poco Pronto. 
Wouldn’t that be grand? I never heard 
anything called that, and it has such a pretty 
jingle about it when you say them all together. 
It’s a — what do you call it? — ’literation? It 
means where a whole string of words begin 
with the same letter. Don’t you think that 
would make a splendid name for a dog?” 

“Capital,” answered loyal Tom, and Tabi- 
tha again took up the study of her geography 
lesson, for while she had been talking, Mr. 
Carson had opened the door of the big house 
and carried General Grant, box and all, inside. 

Tom was not the only one who had heard 
Tabitha’s raptures over the new possession, 
however. Sitting by the open window behind 
his newspaper, Mr. Catt had caught every 
word of the conversation, unknown to his small 
daughter, who did not realize his close proxim- 


TABITHA AT IVY HALL 101 


ity while she was unburdening her heart to the 
big brother; and he smiled derisively at the 
narrative; so when the child found courage to 
ask him for a pet dog he answered curtly, “No, 
Miss Tabitha, we don’t want any pups around 
here. Dogs and cats fight, you know.” 

Without another word, the small supplicant 
went mournfully away to gaze with longing 
eyes at the joint possession and wish more fer- 
vently than ever that it might be hers. 

But Mr. Catt was not really heartless. A 
few days later on his way home from a short 
trip to his claims, he found a half -starved cat 
tied to a lonely yucca far up on the mountain 
trail, where it had been abandoned by its inhu- 
man owners and left to this terrible fate. In- 
dignation burned within the man as he realized 
the plight of the unhappy animal, and remem- 
bering Tabitha’s plea for a pet, he carried the 
scrawny feline home to the child, feeling as- 
sured of its welcome there. But unfortu- 
nately the cat was as black as a coal, without a 
white hair on its body; its tail had a very per- 
ceptible crook in it which refused to be 
straightened out; its ears had been closely 
cropped, and altogether it was so gaunt and 


102 TABITHA AT IVY HALL 


hideous that involuntarily one shuddered to 
look at it. 

‘‘A cat!’’ exclaimed disappointed Tabitha 
when she had been called to see the gift. ‘T 
never asked for a cat; I don’t want a cat; I 
hate cats ! There are enough cats in this house 
already without this horrible skeleton. I sup- 
pose you will want me to call it Tabby. Oh, 
dear, what a time I do have living!” 

With a wail of woe Tabitha fled up the trail 
to her hidden chamber among the boulders and 
threw herself on the ground to sob out her 
grief and anger over this unexpected and 
wholly unwelcome pet. That she would re- 
gard the gift as an insult when he had pre- 
sented it with the best of intentions had never 
occurred to the father, and not understanding 
her antipathy for all of the feline tribe, he 
was naturally somewhat angry at her attitude; 
so he insisted that the cat had come to stay. 
And indeed it looked as if she had, for no one 
wanted the homely, starved creature, and 
though three times Tabitha surreptitiously 
pushed her down the shaft of an abandoned 
mine on the other side of the mountain, the ani- 
mal always appeared serenely at meal time with 
a more ravenous appetite than ever, and Tabi- 


TABITHA AT IVY HALL 103 


tha began to think that the “nine lives of a cat” 
was no joke, but a dreadful reality. 

“I wish the ownjers of that thing had kept 
her. It was cruel to tie her to the yucca and 
leave her to starve to death, but I ’most wish 
she’d been dead when Dad found her. I hate 
the sight of her.” She was sitting on the 
lower step, elbows on her knees and chin i^est- 
ing in her hands as she somberly surveyed the 
greedy animal lapping up the milk she had 
just set before it, and vainly wished she had no 
pet at all. 

The kitchen door opened behind her and the 
father stepped out on the porch. His quick 
glance took in the whole situation in an instant, 
and recalling the conversation concerning the 
dog a few nights previously, he asked with 
some curiosity, “What have you named your 
cat, Tabitha?” 

Without lifting her eyes or manifesting any 
interest in the subject she answered briefly, 
“Lynne Maximilian.” 

The man started as if he could not believe 
his ears, and then with an almost audible 
chuckle of amusement, he descended the steps 
and strode rapidly up the path toward the 
town. 










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CHAPTER VII 


THE NEW BOY 

There was a new boy at school. 

In this little town with its ever changing 
population of miners and fortune seekers, the 
advent of a stranger as a usual thing caused 
little if any excitement. But with this boy it 
was different, though the children could not 
have explained wherein he was unlike them- 
selves. It could not be his clothes, for Jimmy 
Gates, the hotel-keeper’s son, was the best- 
dressed boy in town ; it could not be his appear- 
ance, for though he was undoubtedly good- 
looking, he did not begin to be as handsome as 
Herman Richards; it could not be the place 
where he lived, for the Carson house was the 
largest and most attractive in town. And yet 
there was something about him that won him a 
ready welcome wherever he went. 

Tabitha was fairly hypnotized. She could 
not keep her eyes off him whenever the oppor- 
tunity to look in his direction came to her, 
105 


106 TABITHA AT IVY HALL 


which fortunately was not often, as she sat in 
the front seat of the outside row, while his 
desk was towards the rear of the room in the 
same row, and they were both in nearly all the 
same classes, though he was obviously some 
two or three years older than she. However, 
he was further advanced in arithmetic, and re- 
cited in a different class, so she could watch 
him during that lesson while he was working at 
the blackboard, or sitting on the recitation 
bench in front of the whole school. He had 
the loveliest red -brown curls and big, red- 
brown eyes with long, heavy lashes! To be 
sure, his face was freckled, but he was always 
laughing and one forgot the freckles in watch- 
ing his flashing white teeth or the dimples that 
came and went in his round cheeks. 

Tabitha did not know that he hated these 
dimples almost as badly as she did her name, 
and that his beautiful curls were a great trial 
to him, as such things are to all boys of that 
tender age; but she did know that he was dif- 
ferent from any boy she had ever seen, and so 
she worshipped him from afar. 

Besides, he had the grandest name! Why 
had she never heard of J erome when she gave 


TABITHA AT IVY HALL 107 


Tom the name of Dionysius Ulysses Hum- 
phrey Llewelyn? Maybe it wasn’t too late 
yet. Oh, she had forgotten — how could she 
ever forget! And the crimson blood mounted 
her cheeks as she remembered that unhappy 
day in the long ago when she had marched up 
one side of the street and down the other and 
told the people that her name was Tabitha 
Catt. Tom and the Carsons and Miss Brooks 
had been very kind to her after that dreadful 
affair, and when she had gone back to school 
the children never once referred to the beauti- 
ful name that had been so ruthlessly snatched 
away from her, but they played with her just 
as if nothing had happened and even spoke the 
hateful word, Tabitha, with such a gentleness 
that it lost some of its sting. Carrie adopted 
Tom’s pet name for her, so in time others of 
the children had taken it up and she was more 
frequently Puss than Tabitha; for all of which 
she was deeply grateful. Still, she could not 
help wishing that Tom’s name could have been 
Jerome. That did sound so splendid! But 
Tom in her eyes was just as nice as Jerome 
Vane, even if he was solemn and shy while Je- 
rome was laughing and debonair. 


108 TABITHA AT IVY HALL 


The new scholar had been in school just one 
week when one rainy day at recess while the 
children were playing quietly inside the build- 
ing, as the weather was too forbidding to per- 
mit the usual games in the yard, Tabitha’s 
sharp ears caught a snatch of conversation 
among the boys busy drawing horrible cartoons 
on the blackboard, and one of the speakers was 
her idol, Jerome Vane. 

“Who’s that black-haired kid that signs her 
name as ‘T, C.’ in the arithmetic class?” the 
new boy asked. 

“Oh, that’s Tabitha Catt.” 

“Tabitha Catt! What a fimny name!” Je- 
rome exclaimed; and Tabitha, darting a swift 
glance at him from the corner of her eye, saw 
that he was looking at her with an amused 
smile on his lips. 

“Ain’t it, though? She don’t like it a bit, 
and took a different one; but her father made 
her take it all back. She’s teacher’s pet, so we 
daren’t tease her.” 

“Huh!” declared the other with a swag- 
ger of bravado, “’t would take more than 
that to make me stop teasing her if I wanted 
to.” 


TABITHA AT IVY HALL 109 

“Guess you don’t know Miss Brooks very 
well.” 

‘T don’t care a hang about Miss Brooks. 
I’d tease if I wanted to.” 

“I dare you!” 

' “Taken!” 

Tabitha was almost too shocked to move, but 
at this opportune moment, Carrie came run- 
ning up to her desk with the news, “Sam Giles 
has just brought in a bucket of water. Don’t 
you want a drink before recess is over?” 

Glad to escape further observation, Tabitha 
followed blue-eyed Carrie over to the corner of 
the room where the bucket stood, surrounded 
by the thirsty boys and girls, all clamoring for 
a turn. 

“Hurry up. Jack Leavitt, it’s almost time 
for the bell and I want a drink!” 

“Give me that dipper, you Jim Gates; I 
want another swig!” 

“Wait your turn, stingy!” 

At last Tabitha stood beside the pail with 
the dipper in her hand, but just as she lifted 
the big cup brimming over, someone behind her 
tweaked her long braid, and she heard J erome’s 
laughing voice saying, 


110 TABITHA AT IVY HALL 


“ ‘Tabby Catt, Tabby Catt, where have you 
been?’ 

‘IVe been to London to see the queen.’ 

‘Tabby Catt, Tabby Catt, what saw you 
there ?’ — ” 

“I saw a sneaking boy with a shock of red 
hair,” finished the enraged Tabitha whirling 
toward him with the dripping dipper, and be- 
fore he had a chance to divine her intentions 
or dodge to one side, she let its contents fly 
straight into his face. 

“Tabitha Catt!” 

An ominous hush had fallen over the room 
while this little scene was transpiring, but the 
angry child had not noticed the unusual silence, 
nor perceived that Miss Brooks had entered in 
time to see the deluge. 

“Tabitha Catt!” repeated the astonished 
teacher. “I am surprised at you. Ask Je- 
rome’s pardon for being so rude.” 

Tabitha still stood beside the water bucket, 
quivering in every limb, eyes blazing, nostrils 
flaring, and clutching the empty dipper 
fiercely in her hand. 

“I will not!” 

The teacher was shocked; no one had ever 


TABITHA AT IVY HALL 111 


defied her in this manner before, and the angry 
blood mounted to her forehead. She would 
have obedience at whatever cost. 

“Tabitha, I insist that you beg Jerome’s for- 
giveness.” 

‘T was to blame some, too. Miss Brooks,” in- 
terrupted the boy shamefacedly. “I’m sorry.” 

“I’m not,” declared the little rebel, more 
hurt and grieved at finding her idol shattered 
than angry at his teasing words. 

Plainly Miss Brooks was puzzled. She 
could not ignore such open defiance ; it must be 
punished in some way. What should she do? 
A bright thought occurred to her. 

“Jerome, take your seat. Tabitha, come 
here.” 

The girl walked over to the teacher’s desk, 
still gripping the dipper in one grimy fist, and 
v.^ondering what was to befall her now. This 
was the first time Miss Brooks had ever pun- 
ished her, and in spite of her anger, sorrowful 
tears gathered in her eyes. She didn’t mind 
being hurt, but to have Miss Brooks punish her 
seemed more than she could bear. The teacher 
carefully drew her chair out on the platform 
in front of the whole school, and sitting down 
in it, took Tabitha on her knee. 


112 TABITHA AT IVY HALL 


“Now, Tabitha, you must sit in my lap until 
you will tell Jerome that you are sorry. He 
has begged your pardon like a man, and it is 
worse than impolite to refuse to do the same to 
him; it is wicked.” 

The scholars giggled. Instantly the tears 
were dried, the brown face grew white and 
tense, the whole slender body rigid with pas- 
sion, and with unseeing eyes Tabitha stared 
straight ahead of her, refusing to speak. 

Thinking the child would see fit to do as she 
was told after a few moments of meditation, 
the teacher rapped for order, took up her book 
and called the next class for geography. But 
Tabitha’s anger had swallowed up every other 
emotion, and all that afternoon she sat on Miss 
Brooks’ knee, taking satisfaction in making 
herself as heavy as possible and in stepping on 
the teacher’s toes as often as they came within 
reach. 

It was an uncomfortable session for the 
whole school; Carrie took the punishment as 
keenly as if she had been the culprit and 
grieved herself sick over her friend’s unhappi- 
ness ; and the teacher was almost as sorrowful. 
The reproachful look in the black eyes haunted 


TABITHA AT IVY HALL 113 


her until several times she was on the point of 
allowing the girl to take her seat, but each time 
came the thought, “If I let this offense go un- 
punished, I will soon have the whole school de- 
fying me. No, she must obey, even if it is little 
Tabitha, and Jerome to blame.” So she held 
the furious rebel until the clock pointed to the 
hoirr of closing, and then with the cold words, 
“You may go, now,” she dismissed her, half 
expecting the girl would linger and penitently 
ask her forgiveness ; when she meant to be very 
firm and make her see the error of her ways, 
but at last to accept her apology and let the 
matter drop. To her hurt surprise, however, 
Tabitha bundled into her wraps and bounced 
out of the building without waiting even for 
Carrie, the loyal; and with heavy heart the 
woman turned back to the little duties which 
must be attended to before she could go to her 
home. 

The rain had ceased, but little puddles stood 
in every hollow, and as the schoolhouse was at 
the foot of the hill, it was almost surrounded 
by a chain of these miniature lakes. As Tabi- 
tha rushed out of the door in her mad flight, 
she found herself confronted by a huge pud- 


114 TABITHA AT IVY HALL 


die which she could not cross without wetting 
her feet, and ever mindful of Aunt Maria’s 
heroic treatments for colds, she paused to 
choose a better path. This gave Carrie a 
chance to overtake her, but before the little 
peacemaker could say a word of comfort to the 
wounded heart, Jerome’s laughing tones rose 
clearly above the rest of the clamoring voices, 

“Oh, Tabitha, wait a minute.” 

She hesitated, half turned as if to heed his 
entreaty, and then — then it happened. 

“Susie’s reader has a new poem in it; one 
that I never saw before, Tabitha,” the teasing 
voice continued. “It says: 

‘My little black Tabby is perched on my 
knee; 

As fierce as a lion or tiger is she ; 

She wakes — ’ ” 

Tabitha’s books fell unheeded to the ground, 
she leaped toward her tormentor with fury in 
her heart, and dealt him a staggering blow full 
on the nose, screaming in rage, 

“I would rather be a Tabby Catt than a 
cross-eyed, red-headed chimpanzee.” 

Pushing him violently from her, she turned 
and fled through the wide puddle and up the 


TABITHA AT IVY HALL 115 


slope toward home, never hearing the loud 
splash behind her and the mingled screams and 
laughter, and not aware that the debonair Je- 
rome with the blood spurting from his nose had 
lost his balance and toppled into the muddy 
water. 

Indignant Carrie faced him as he rose to his 
feet, and stamping her foot in her extreme 
vexation, she boldly cried, 

“You ought to be ashamed of yourself, Je- 
rome Vane. Teacher said we mustn’t tease 
her, and I’m glad you’re hurt. You deserve 
to be.” And she sped tearfully away in pur- 
suit of her fleeing mate before the discomfited 
boy could find breath to tell her that he was 
ashamed of himself — thoroughly ashamed. 

Miss Brooks had witnessed the fray from 
the window, but she wasn’t the only grown-up 
spectator. A tall, dark man loaded down with 
a huge watermelon had come up the road just 
in time to hear and see the whole performance, 
and a smile of satisfaction lit his face when the 
girl came off victorious. 

“Poor kid,” he said under his breath. “She 
is a regular Catt all right. How will she come 
out of it?” 


116 TABITHA AT IVY HALL 


He found himself hoping that life might 
have much more sweetness in it for her than it 
had had for him. And he had named her 
Tabitha! 

With wild rebellion in her heart and a keen 
sense of the injustice done her, Tabitha had 
rushed heedlessly up the hill and down through 
the pathless tangle of wet greasewood and sage- 
brush, splashing through mud and water with 
reckless abandon, and arriving home in a de- 
plorably bespattered state, with feet wet and 
dress dripping. Aunt Maria saw her coming 
and met her at the door with an exclamation of 
horror: “Tabitha Catt! What do you think 
you are about? The very idea of running 
through puddles in that manner ! Get off those 
wet shoes this minute and put your feet in the 
oven. If I just had some mullein leaves now to 
make compresses with! Look at your dress, 
and this is the second this week. Lucky this is 
Friday or you would have to wear a dirty gown 
to school tomorrow.” 

The door opened again and Mr. Catt came 
in just in time to hear the last words of the 
scolding. Laying the watermelon on the table, 
he turned to the child huddled in the corner 


TABITHA AT IVY HALL 117 


close to the hot stove, and demanded, “How 
did you get so muddy?” 

“Coming home from school.” 

“Say ‘sir’ when you address me. What were 
you doing to get so wet?” 

“Running.” 

^^Whatr 

“Running, sir.” 

“What were you running for?” He was 
trying to make her confess what had happened 
at the schoolhouse, but she had her own method 
of answering questions, and that was seldom 
very satisfactory to the questioner so far as the 
amount of information was concerned. 

“For exercise,” she snapped, forgetting her 
fear of him in her exasperation at these other 
unhappy events. 

“You were fighting,” he said sternly, and she 
started in surprise, but made no answer. 
“Weren’t you?” 

“No.” 

nvhatr 

“No, sir.” 

“Tabitha Catt!” he exclaimed in astonish- 
ment. “Go to your room. No melon to-night 
for a girl who will tell such a deliberate lie.” 


118 TABITHA AT IVY HALL 


Tabitha rose instantly, seized her draggled 
belongings and started for her door, but paused 
on the threshold to say, ‘T hit him only once. 
That ain’t fighting, is it? I wanted to trounce 
him good; he deserved it.” 

Her door shut with an emphatic bang, and 
the weary, perplexed, belligerent little girl 
crept into bed to sob herself to sleep. 

Breakfast was over, the dishes all cleared 
away and the kitchen deserted when she awoke 
the next morning; but on the table stood a tray 
on which her lunch was set forth, and beside it 
lay a note from Aunt Maria saying that a sick 
neighbor had sent for her and she would be 
gone for some time. 

Tabitha took a survey of the premises. Tom 
was at the office, the father nowhere in sight. 
Where was the watermelon? Surely three 
people couldn’t have eaten all of it in one meal! 
Oh, there it was in the cooler and not even cut. 
She stood contemplating it for a moment, then 
with a deft motion rolled it out on the floor. 
It was so heavy she could scarcely lift it. She 
looked around for something to assist her, and 
her eye fell upon an empty flour-sack which 
Aunt Maria had left on top of the barrel, evi- 


TABITHA AT IVY HALL 119 


dently intending to wash it out. Seizing this, 
she spread it open beside the melon, rolled the 
great green ball inside, and dragged the trophy 
out of doors up the rocky path to the road and 
out of sight among the boulders. There she 
stood and surveyed the bag while she wrestled 
with herself. 

“He said I lied, and I didn’t. It wasn’t a 
fight, for Jerome never hit me at all. It takes 
two to make a fight. Miss Brooks says so. 
He’s always telling me I lie. He never said I 
couldn’t have some melon today. Maybe if I 
had left it alone he would have given me some. 
Perhaps I’d better take it back.” 

She stooped over, grabbed the end of the 
bag and started back down the trail again, but 
at the first step she stopped. It was the wrong 
end of the sack she had clutched, and the melon 
had rolled out into the sand. 

“Oh, gracious! However did that happen?” 
she exclaimed aloud in horror, gazing with fas- 
cinated eyes at the battered, hopelessly scarred 
ball which had once been so smooth and roimd 
and green. Scarcely a bit of the skin remained 
on its sides, and a great, jagged crack almost 
split the thing in halves. 


120 TABITHA AT IVY HALL 


“Now, I’ve done it! What will Dad say? 
Guess I’ll get a licking this time sure. Well, 
he needn’t have said I lied. Serves him right 
that his old melon is spoiled. It’s a pity to 
waste it, though. Guess I better eat it. If I 
am going to get licked, I may as well have the 
melon first; maybe it won’t hurt so bad. It 
looks perfectly beautiful inside.” 

Down beside the shattered fruit she sat and 
began munching the red, sweet, juicy pulp 
which smelled oh, so good! But somehow the 
taste was bitter in her mouth, and the tempting 
morsels choked her when she tried to swallow 
them. She reviewed the previous day’s hap- 
penings and began to wonder if she were en- 
tirely blameless. She had promised Mr. Carson 
not to get mad when folks teased her, and here 
she had not only got mad but had hurt Jerome, 
defied the teacher and stepped on her toes, 
wounded faithful Carrie by running away 
from her, angered her father and stolen his 
melon. 

There was the sound of horse’s hoofs and 
the rumbling of wheels on the hard roadbed, 
and around the rocky hillside appeared a light 
carriage driven by a portly, middle-aged man 


I 


TABITHA AT IVY HALL 121 


of professional appearance, who drew rein at 
sight of the child sitting there so disconsolately 
with the broken watermelon between her 
knees. 

“Hello, sis,” he said pleasantly, “can — ” 

“If you will follow the road you will reach 
Silver Bow in just a few seconds. It’s right 
around that next curve,” recited Tabitha rap- 
idly, as if well accustomed to directing trav- 
elers. 

The man smiled in amusement, and Tabitha 
wondered vaguely where she had seen him be- 
fore, for he certainly looked familiar. “I hap- 
pen to be staying at Silver Bow just at pres- 
ent, so I know where to go,” he answered gen- 
ially, removing his hat to fan himself, and 
exposing to view a head of wavy red-brown 
hair streaked liberally >vith gray. “I was 
going to ask you if you could tell me what you 
were doing up there and where you got that 
watermelon.” 

“Yes?” 

He waited expectantly, but no further ex- 
planation was forthcoming, and he gently 
reminded her, “I am listening.” 

“Well, I don’t intend to tell you,” she burst 


122 TABITHA AT IVY HALL 


forth hotly, “for it is none of your business!” 

Instantly the kindly face became grave and 
he bovvcd politely as he gathered up the reins, 
saying, “Oh, I beg your pardon, little girl; it 
was rude of me to ask such a question. I for- 
got my manners.” 

She felt his unspoken reproof keenly and 
her face flushed with shame, but before he 
could drive on she cried impetuously, “It 
wasn’t your manners that were forgot, it was 
mine. I have to be so polite to Dad and Miss 
Brooks that I don’t have any manners left, I 
reckon. I am sorry I was rude. I stole this 
melon and drug it up here to plague Dad 
’cause he said I couldn’t have any, but it got 
smashed all into bits coming up, so I thought 
I better eat it so’s to save it. Aunt Maria 
doesn’t like anything to go to waste. But the 
melon is sour, I reckon, and I’m sorry I took it. 
I’d have lugged it back again but it was a sight 
to be seen and wouldn’t have held together till 
I could have got it there. Now I s’pose I’d 
better go home and get ready to be licked. It 
will surely come this time.” 

As this torrent of words tumbled from her 
lips she rose from her seat and slid down the 



‘ ‘ Get it if yon can ! ’ ’ 
(Page 232.) 




TABITHA AT IVY HALL 123 


rocky incline to the road where the stranger 
sat staring at her in absolute amazement. 

“Are you Tabitha Catt?” he asked at last. 
“Yes, sir. How did you know me?” and a 
look of intense bitterness crept into her eyes 
as the hateful name sounded in her ears. 

“My boy is in school here, and he told me — ” 
“Is your boy Jerome Vane?” she inter- 
rupted, suddenly recognizing the great simi- 
larity between man and boy. 

“Yes, I am Dr. Vane — ” 

“Well, I must say you’ve got the impolitest 
boy I ever saw! I threw ’most a bucket of 
water in his face yesterday and punched his 
nose good. Dad saw me and that’s why he 
said I couldn’t have any watermelon.” 

The doctor’s face was a study, his lips 
twitched and his eyes grew suspiciously bright. 
Leaning over the side of the carriage, he held 
out his hand to the barefooted girl among the 
rocks and said tenderly, 

“Come home with me, Tabitha. The little 
mother wants to see you. Jerome is sorry and 
he will never torment you again. He didn’t 
understand.” 

Tabitha eyed the doctor doubtfully. Maybe 


124 TABITHA AT IVY HALL 


he wanted to lick her for the blow she had 
given Jerome; but one look at the sympathetic 
face dispelled her fear, and she started as if 
to accept his invitation, then drew back. 

“Thank you. Dr. Vane. I should be pleased 
to accompany you,” she said with all the 
politeness and formality she could muster, 
“but I reckon I’d better be going home now. 
Dad is probably looking for me by this time. 
He’ll want his melon.” 

The doctor surveyed the shattered fruit on 
the mountainside, and then looked down into 
the small brown face with its pathetically 
drooping mouth. 

We’ll drive around by the store and get 
another melon, Tabitha, and everything will 
be all right. Won’t that do?” 

“Why didn’t I think of that before?” she 
exclaimed in visible relief. “How much will 
it cost? Four bits?” 

“Yes, maybe a little more. Such things 
cost more here on the desert than they do where 
they are raised.” 

Her Pace fell. “I’ve got only forty-two cents 
in my bank. I reckon I’ll have to take the 
licking after all.” 


TABITHA AT IVY HALL 125 


‘T’ll give you the rest — ” he began. 

“No, I mustn’t take money from people un- 
less IVe done something to earn it. But — if 
you will lend me eight cents, I’ll pay it back 
as soon as I can earn it, — ^that is, if you can 
wait for it. Maybe it will be quite a while be- 
fore I get any more. There ain’t many things 
a girl can do on the desert to earn money fast. 
In Ferndale I used to pick berries. Do you 
think you can wait?” 

“Yes, indeed, Tabitha. Climb in and we’ll 
hurry that melon home before anyone knows it 
is gone.” 

Up into the carriage she scrambled and 
away they drove towards town. 


\ 



CHAPTER VIII 


TABITHA BEGS PARDON 

With the melon resting securely in the 
cooler at home, Tabitha felt better, but the 
weight of her sins was not wholly lifted yet, 
and she dreaded to meet the doctor’s wife after 
the encounter she had had with Jerome the 
previous day; so the ride through town to the 
little brown cottage high on the mountainside 
overlooking the “flat” was very silent, and 
when the doctor lifted her from the carriage at 
his door, her eyes wore their frightened look, 
so pathetic in one so young. He noted the un- 
childlike expression on the thin face and felt 
her trembling in his arms, but before he could 
think of anything cheerful to say, Jerome 
boimded out of the house and met her half way 
up the steps with the impulsive words, 

“I was very rude to you yesterday, Tabitha, 
and I am truly sorry. I was all to blame and I 
should have told Miss Brooks so. Won’t you 
be friends with me now?” 

127 


128 TABITHA AT IVY HALL 


Sincerity rang in his voice and his face was 
full of contrition. Tabitha’s resentment was 
wholly conquered and her last fear vanished. 
She gravely extended her hand to meet his and 
the hatchet was buried in that handclasp. 

“Come now and see Mamma. She’s lying 
down because she has been awfully sick. 
That’s what we came here for, and she is anx- 
ious to see you.” 

The next instant Tabitha stood in the pres- 
ence of a tiny, white-faced woman with the 
most wonderful eyes she had ever seen. They 
shone like stars but held the warmth of the sun 
in their glance, and instinctively the child rec- 
ognized in this frail invalid a friend. Without 
waiting for the formality of an introduction, 
without stopping to think of consequences, 
Tabitha flew to the couch and dropped down 
beside it, crying remorsefully, 

“I hit him an awful whack right on the nose, 
and I meant to. I just itched to thrash him 
good. If I’d been a boy I reckon I would have 
pitched into him. I nearly drowned him in the 
water-bucket and wouldn’t say I was sorry. I 
wasn’t then, but I am now. Will— will — will 
you be friends with me after all that?” 


TABITHA AT IVY HALL 129 


“Poor little girl, poor little girl,” said the 
weak voice, as the thin arms clasped her gently 
around. “Of course I’ll be your friend. I am 
sorry J erome teased you. I am afraid he likes 
to plague folks whenever he can, but he doesn’t 
mean to be bad. You mustn’t pay any atten- 
tion to what he says and he will soon get tired 
of tormenting.” 

“That’s just what Mr. Carson said, and I 
promised I would try not to get mad, but I 
forgot. I’ve got a perfectly terrible temper, 
and when it boils up inside of me it just sizzles 
all over everything before I can stop it. Why, 
I even sassed Dad! I thought sure he’d lick 
me, but he didn’t.” 

“Tell me all about it,” urged the tender- 
hearted woman, and Tabitha poured out her 
pent-up griefs and longings into those sympa- 
thetic ears with a passion that astonished her 
listeners. 

“I don’t know what I’d do without Tom. 
He’s my ‘Guardian Angel.’ Did you ever read 
the book called The Guardian Angel! The sur- 
veyor let me take it. It’s about a girl who had 
almost as ugly a temper as mine. She didn’t 
have any mother or father. I’ve got Dad, but 


130 TABITHA AT IVY HALL 


he hates us. I reckon it must be a job to 
move us everywhere he wants to go, and it is 
particularly bad now, ’cause Aunt Maria 
doesn’t like it and she keeps saying she won’t 
stay. Tom’s most grown up now though, and 
when he gets through college and has a survey- 
ing office of his own, I’m going to keep house 
for him. In two more years now he’ll be ready 
to go to Reno to college. Mr. Carson and the 
surveyor are helping him with his lessons, so 
he doesn’t have very much time to teach me 
any more; but I am way ahead of Carrie and 
Nettie and the other girls of my age and I’m 
going to learn all I can so’s I can help Tom. 
If I only had a pretty name, I think I could 
stand Dad, but it’s awfully trying to have two 
such things to bother you all the time. There, 
now, I didn’t mean to say that ! Miss Brooks 
says it is wicked to talk so, and I made up my 
mind to forever quit saying mean things. I 
guess I am pretty bad, for I do forget so aw- 
fully often — so very often. ‘Awfully’ isn’t a 
nice word to use. Miss Brooks says. Do you 
know, her first name is Stella and it means 
‘star.’ Isn’t that a pretty name? My first 
name is Tabitha and it means cat; so I am a 


TABITHA AT IVY HALL 131 


double cat, for you see my last name is Catt, 
too.” 

“But, my dear,” interrupted the woman 
gently, “nobody is going to care what your 
name is if you are sweet and happy and sunny. 
They will like you without ever thinking what 
the name means.” 

“Now isn’t it funny that two people should 
think the same way? Mr. Carson told me all 
that, but I was afraid he didn’t know for cer- 
tain, because he isn’t a Catt. But then, you 
aren’t a Catt, either.” 

“Other people can have bad tempers, dear. 
I used to get just terribly angry when I was a 
little girl — ” 

“You don’t look like it now. How did you 
get over it?” The black eyes glistened with 
eagerness and the little face was full of wist- 
fulness. 

“My mother used to talk to me and — ” 

“I might be better if I had a mother. Aunt 
Maria doesn’t know how to mother anything.” 

“I didn’t have my mother always, dear, but 
long after she was gone, I remembered the 
things she used to tell me, and they helped me 
so much to control my temper.” 


132 TABITHA AT IVY HALL 


'‘What did she say?’’ she asked curiously. 

“Many, many things, Tabitha; too many to 
think of now. But she gave me a rule to help 
me from getting mad, which I have never for- 
gotten. She told me to count ten when I was 
angry before I spoke a word to anyone; and 
by the time I had counted ten I had hold of my 
temper, so it couldn’t get away. Sometimes, 
of course, I made mistakes and said things I 
regretted afterwards, and then my mother 
taught me to go to the people I had hurt and 
ask their forgiveness. It was often very hard 
to do, but I felt so much happier afterward, 
and I have never been sorry for begging a per- 
son’s pardon.” 

“Even if they weren’t nice to you?” 

“Yes, dear, even if they were horrid. I 
knew I had done my part and could forget all 
about the trouble; but if I hadn’t told them I 
was sorry, then I was unhappy all the time.” 

Tabitha looked thoughtfully out of the win- 
dow far across the desert to the mountains be- 
yond, and finally answered slowly, “Well, 
that’s worth trying, though being a Catt seems 
to make everything different for me. 
Maybe — ” The noon whistle blew, and the 


TABITHA AT IVY HALL 133 


child leaped to her feet with a startled exclama- 
tion. ‘T must be going now. Aunt Maria 
wasn’t at home when we took the melon down, 
and no one knows where I’ve gone. Good-by!” 

Away she rushed down the mountain path 
and up the main street of the town toward 
home. As she neared the schoolhouse, she saw 
through the open window the teacher correct- 
ing papers at her desk, her head bowed low 
over her work and one hand shading her eyes. 

‘T was real wicked to her,” said Tabitha to 
herself. ‘T ought to tell her how sorry I am — 
for I am sorry now.” 

Impulsively she ran across the yard, threw 
open the door and burst into the room. 

“Teacher — Miss Brooks, I was real ugly 
and wicked yesterday. He did make me aw- 
fully mad when he said such horrid things 
about my name, but I oughtn’t to have thrown 
water in his face nor dumped him in that pud- 
dle. He said I did — but I never saw that part 
of it. He says he’s sorry and I’ll believe him 
now. Will — will you be friends with me 
again? I forgot my manners when I sassed 
you. I didn’t mean to« It was real hateful of 
me to tromp on your toes and bear down hard 


134 TABITHA AT IVY HALL 


on your knee, and I’m ever so sorry. Can you 
— forgive me?” 

Oh, but it was hard to say that, and the cul- 
prit stood shifting from one foot to the other 
in embarrassment and shame with eyes down- 
cast and cheeks aflame. There was a quick 
step on the rough floor, a strong arm encircled 
her gently, and for a brief moment she was 
held in a close embrace while Miss Brooks 
whispered tenderly in her ear. Then they had 
a long talk — Tabitha had forgotten all about 
the dinner hour — and when they parted it was 
with a better understanding of each other. 

“She kissed me,” breathed the child in ec- 
stacy as she hurried up the hill. “That’s the 
first time a lady ever kissed me, except Mrs. 
Carson. It is so nice to have friends! And 
Mrs. Vane is right, it does feel good when 
you’ve told folks you are sorry. I wonder — 
there’s Dad — I sassed him and stole his water- 
melon. But he’s hated me ever since I was 
born. I wonder if it would be worth while to 
tell him I’m sorry. I wonder if I would be ly- 
ing if I said that to him. I wish he was like 
Carrie’s father or Dr. Vane; I could tell them 
I was sorry and really feel sorry. Perhaps if 


TABITHA AT IVY HALL 135 


I told him I knew how wicked I was, the sorri- 
ness would come later. I’ll try it this time, and 
if it doesn’t work — well, I needn’t do it again.” 

With fluttering heart and breathing quickly, 
she boldly entered the small kitchen where the 
rest of the family were just rising from dinner. 
The father scowled disapprovingly at her 
tardiness, but before he could utter a word of 
reproof, Tabitha marched up to him and rap- 
idly began, 

“I was real mad at your saying I had been 
flghting when I hadn’t hit Jerome but once 
and he had never hit me at all, and I was mad- 
der still when you said I couldn’t have any 
watermelon; so I stole the whole thing out of 
the cooler and hid it up among the rocks, but 
it got smashed when I dragged it over the 
stones, so it wasn’t fit to bring back when I 
began to think it was a licking this time sure. 

“The doctor came along just then and told 
me maybe if I bought another melon it would 
be all right, so I did, borrowing eight cents of 
him, for which I must work until I get it paid 
back. I think this melon is better than the one 
you got anyhow, but if you still think it’s got 
to be a licking, why, I’m ready.” 


136 TABITHA AT IVY HALL 


She paused for breath, while he, speechless 
with astonishment at this lengthy confession, 
stared at her with uncomprehending eyes. 
Was this Tabitha? What could have hap- 
pened to bring about this state of affairs? 

“Teacher and Mrs. Vane say it is wicked to 
get mad and we always ought to beg folks’ — ” 
she could not say ‘forgiveness’ to him — “folks’ 
pardon when we say or do things we ought not 
to. I ought not to have toted that melon off. 
What are you going to do about it?” 

She was trembling from head to foot with 
excitement and nervous dread, and it seemed 
to her that he had never looked so formidable 
before; but though her heart quaked, she cour- 
ageously stood her ground, and waited for him 
to name her sentence. 

“You better eat your dinner and help your 
aunt clear away the dishes and do up the other 
work instead of gadding all over the neighbor- 
hood,” he said gruffly to hide his feelings, and 
taking his hat, he passed out of the door, leav- 
ing a surprised but much relieved little girl to 
enjoy a huge slice of watermelon which she 
found on her plate. 


CHAPTER IX 


A BRAVE LITTLE CATT 

Miss Brooks was going away. This was her 
last week of school and next September when 
the children gathered again in the familiar old 
building, there would be a new teacher in her 
stead. The children were disconsolate, for in 
the three years that she had instructed them in 
the mysterious ways of knowledge, they had 
come to love her very dearly and to consider 
her one of their possessions. So it was a great 
shock to learn of her intentions, and particu- 
larly was this true with Tabitha whose grief at 
the impending loss was too deep for words. 
She could only stare and stare at the beloved 
face as the days slipped by lessening the teach- 
er’s stay with them, until Miss Brooks was so 
haunted by those pathetically appealing black 
eyes that she could scarcely sleep and began to 
wonder why it was that she should feel so 
much like a criminal every time she looked at 
the child. 


137 


138 TABITHA AT IVY HALL 


At last a happy thought occurred to her. 
She interviewed Mr. Carson, Dr. Vane and 
other prominent men of the town, with the re- 
sult that the last Monday of the term she faced 
the scholars with a happy smile on her lips and 
hope in her heart, as she announced, “Children, 
I have some good news to tell you — ” 

“You’re not going away after all!” breathed 
Tabitha ecstatically, but the next instant her 
face fell, for the teacher gently shook her head 
to signify that this guess was wrong. 

“No, it isn’t that, for I really cannot come 
back here next fall, children, or I would. But 
as long as I am going away, I thought we 
would celebrate it by having a farewell picnic. 
In the city where I live if any of our friends 
go away to live somewhere else, we always give 
them a little party as a sort of good-by to them, 
and we have a jolly time which they can re- 
member always. Instead of having a party 
here, I thought it would be nice if we could go 
down to the river for a picnic, so I asked some 
of the gentlemen here in town about it and 
they told me that we can get wagons enough to 
take us all down there a week from tomorrow. 
It is such a long, long way we couldn’t walk. 


TABITHA AT IVY HALL 139 


It is a pretty place, too, and many of you 
haven’t been there before. We will take our 
lunch and stay all day, coming home before it 
gets dark. Some of the parents are willing to 
accompany us, and we will have a fine time. 
How many of you would like to go?” 

Up went every hand in the room and the 
faces of the children beamed in happy anticipa- 
tion, for picnics were almost unknown here on 
the barren desert, and any novelty was gladly 
welcomed. So the scholars began happy plans 
for this unusual gala day, and all that long 
week little else was thought of. This was just 
what Miss Brooks had hoped for, because in 
their looking forward to this extraordinary 
pleasure in their humdrum lives, they ceased to 
harass their teacher with mournful laments 
and direful prophecies, and even Tabitha’s 
face lost some of its reproachful look. 

The picnic day dawned at last, clear, cloud- 
less and warm but not too hot, for the desert 
summer was not fairly upon them yet; and 
with lunch-baskets and buckets on their arms, 
and faces wreathed with expectant smiles, the 
thirty children gathered around the low school- 
house impatiently waiting for the teams. 

Both of Carrie’s parents, Susie’s mother, Dr. 


140 TABITHA AT IVY HALL 


Vane and Herman’s aunt were to help Miss 
Brooks take care of her restless charges and 
make the day a success; so no wonder every- 
one was happy in their anticipation of a good 
time. Then, too, some of the miners who had 
heard the great event talked up, got together 
in the dead of night and decorated the several 
rigs with gay bunting, fastening two small 
flags to the front of each wagon and even trim- 
ming up the horses’ harnesses until the results 
were quite dazzling to childish eyes. What did 
it matter to them that some of the bunting had 
been watersoaked and that the flags were 
faded almost white? The effect was gay and 
festive and the whole town’s population turned 
out to see the procession start up the mountain 
road lustily singing My Country, while they 
waved their handkerchiefs and caps in the 
early morning sunshine in proud acknowledg- 
ment of the cheers which greeted them on 
every side. Oh, it was a happy day for Tabi- 
tha, and under cover of the music she confid- 
ingly whispered to Carrie that this was the first 
picnic she had ever been allowed to attend, 
which fact surprised that little miss exceed- 
ingly. 


TABITHA AT IVY kALL 141 


It was a long drive to the river, up hill and 
down, over rocky roads, through sandy soil, 
among the ugly Spanish bayonets and cacti 
resplendent with scarlet blossoms, and over the 
desert, now a mass of gorgeous colors, for the 
summer suns had not yet burned out the little 
life which the winter rains had coaxed into 
blooming. How beautiful the gold and crim- 
son flowers looked dotted over the hills and the 
flat like a brilliant carpet with its sage-green 
background and occasional dash of deeper 
green where patches of ‘‘filaree’’ covered the 
sandy soil! 

How glorious it was to watch the gayly 
plumed birds as they swung from bush to bush 
among the yuccas and greasewood, pouring 
out their very souls in theiv joyous morning 
lay, seemingly with no fear of the noisy, happy 
picnickers rumbling along the roadway! Cot- 
tontails and jackrabbits darted across the path 
and into hiding, an occasional harmless snake 
lifted its head to survey them and then glided 
away among the rocks, and twice a startled 
covey of quail rose from the underbrush and 
vanished in the blue mountain air. Oh, it was 


142 TABITHA AT IVY HALL 


grand! How could she ever have thought the 
desert lonely and barren and hideous! 

Then the river came into view and she held 
her breath in delight, for the purple haze of 
the mountains beyond hung low in the valley, 
and lent an indescribable charm to the whole 
surrounding country, as if it were not a reality, 
but some great, grand picture hung before 
them which they could gaze upon but never 
reach, for, as they approached the enchanted 
spot, the beautiful mountains as slowly re- 
ceded, still clad in their purple veil and still 
mysteriously alluring. 

Under a clump of low, glistening cotton- 
woods among the tall, rank swale-grass and 
rough-leaved yellow-weed, the picnic party 
came to a halt and the merry children swarmed 
down over the wagon wheels, eager to begin 
their day’s frolic beside the sluggish river. 

“Now, if someone will just take care of the 
baby,” suggested Susie’s mother as they un- 
loaded the lunch baskets, “I’ll help the other 
ladies get dinner ready and you can have lunch 
just that much sooner.” 

“Oh, let me, Mrs. McKittrick,” cried Tabi- 
tha, who had wished all the morning that she 


TABITHA AT IVY HALL 143 


had been in the rig with the McKittrick family 
so she might hold the little dimpled, laughing 
mite, who made friends with everyone and was 
worshipped by all the children, but remained 
unspoiled in spite of the attentions showered 
upon him by this admiring court. 

‘‘Well, all right, Tabitha. Watch him and 
see that he doesn’t roll down the bank or put 
anything in his mouth. He’s into everything.” 

“What’s his name?” 

“He hasn’t any yet. We can’t find one 
pretty enough for him.” 

“And he is ’most a year old!” 

“Yes, he will be a year next month, but he is 
the first boy in a family of four girls, and we 
can’t decide what to call him, so he has no name 
yet. You might think up some pretty ones to 
suggest. We’ve exhausted everyone else’s 
lists.” 

She laughed as she spoke, but Tabitha 
thought she was thoroughly in earnest, and 
seizing the baby, she ran away to ponder over 
the vital question of pretty names, confident of 
finding one that would suit the over-particular 
parents. 

“I’d like to call him Dionysius if he was 


144 TABITHA AT IVY HALL 


mine,” she confided to Carrie, who soon joined 
her in her self-appointed task of nursemaid, 
for the two girls were seldom apart; “but — 
after — that time — well, he might not like it 
when he grew up. I am afraid it might be un- 
lucky.” 

“Frederick is a pretty name,” ventured 
Carrie. “That’s papa’s.” 

“Yes, that’s not bad, but I reckon Mrs. Mc- 
Kittrick has heard of it already, for I know 
lots of people called that. She wants some- 
thing real pretty. I know how it is, for my 
name is so perfectly horrid that sometimes it 
seems as if I can’t endure it. I wouldn’t want 
to pick out a name that this darling baby would 
hate when he grew up. It must be something 
awfully nice. How do you think she would 
like Rosslyn? I have liked that name ever 
since I heard it and was always sorry I could 
not stay in Ferndale and get acquainted with 
the boy it belonged to, and his cousin Rosalie.” 

“If you had stayed there I never would have 
known you, Pussy,” suggested Carrie, for 
Tabitha was her idol and she shuddered when 
she thought how lonely it would be if Tabitha 
should move away now and leave her there. 


TABITHA AT IVY HALL 145 


“That’s so; I forgot it just for a minute. 
I’m sure Rosalie could never have been any 
nicer than you are, and I don’t believe Rosslyn 
was nicer than Jerome, though Jerome does 
tease me dreadfully sometimes. He doesn’t 
mean to, and he always tells me he is sorry. I 
like the name Jerome, but Mrs. McKittrick 
says she hates it, so it would never do to sug- 
gest that.” 

“Don’t they use last names sometimes for 
first names? Mrs. McKittrick thinks Dr. 
Vane is splendid. I heard her tell mamma so. 
He saved the baby when it was so terribly sick 
and the other doctor said it could not get well.” 

“Maybe it would do for part of the name, 
though I wouldn’t want to call him Vane every 
day. That would sound as if he was a peacock. 
See him pull that flower to pieces just as if he 
was trying to study how it is put together. 
Maybe he will grow up to be a big botany man. 
I would like to be one myself if I didn’t intend 
to keep house for Tom. Oh, the baby has 
started for the river!” 

Both girls sprang up and gave chase and 
Carrie straightway forgot all about the name 
problem, but Tabitha’s busy brain puzzled 


146 TABITHA AT IVY HALL 


over it all that happy day, even while she 
romped and played with her mates in livety 
games of “Farmer in the Dell,” “Old Mother 
Witch,” “Drop the Handkerchief,” and all 
the other childhood favorites. Once she al- 
most forgot it. They were playing “Blind 
Man’s Buff,” when Jerome, who was “it,” suc- 
ceeded in catching her by her hair after an ani- 
mated scrimmage. Her braid promptly gave 
away her identity, for no other girl in school 
possessed such long tresses; and Jerome was 
elated at having so readily discovered who his 
prisoner was, all the more so because this was 
the first time Tabitha had been caught; so he 
teasingly cried, “Aha, this is Miss Me-a-ow!” 

How the children shouted, and for a moment 
Tabitha’s face was crimson with passion and 
she lifted a doubled-up fist threateningly; but 
before the expected blow fell, Tabitha’s lips 
curved suddenly into a smile, her arm dropped 
to her side, and she gayly answered, “Yes, 
Mr. Ki-yip-ki-yi-yi, put on my blinders.” 

Only Miss Brooks of the grown people had 
witnessed the child’s struggle, and as they were 
sitting down to the generous lunch spread un- 
der the cottonwoods, she drew the flushed face 


TABITHA AT IVY HALL 147 


down beside her and said very softly, “That 
was well done, dear. I am proud of you.” 

“You needn’t be,” was the candid reply. “I 
was all ready to scratch for all I was worth 
when I saw the baby and I knew I wasn’t a 
fit person to name such a little darling if I 
couldn’t stand a little teasing. Jerome didn’t 
mean anything by it and was sorry as soon as 
he had said it. He came to me afterwards and 
told me so, and then I was doubly glad I had 
kept still. But it was really the baby who 
made me. I even forgot Mrs. Vane’s rule of 
counting ten.” 

“It will be easier to remember the next 
time,” Miss Brooks told her, feeling devoutly 
thankful that the day had not been marred by a 
display of that fierce, uncontrollable temper, 
and in her gratitude she heaped Tabitha’s plate 
with sandwiches and all the other good things. 

“Now the baby must have his nap,” said 
Mrs. McKittrick when the last crumb of cake 
had disappeared and the last drop of lemonade 
vanished. “I’m going to lay him under the 
wagons where it is coolest, and you children 
play down there by that other clump of trees, 
or else he won’t sleep a wink.” 


148 TABITHA AT IVY HALL 


“We’re going to tell stories and listen to Mr. 
Carson’s talking machine for awhile,” volun- 
teered Susie, “so we won’t make much noise. 
Come on, ma, baby will be all right there.” 

The mother made the tiny boy comfortable 
in a shady nook and then joined the group of 
children gathered under the cottonwoods a 
little further down the river, laughing over the 
queer songs the machine was grinding out ; and 
in this exciting sport all thought of the baby 
was swallowed up, except by Tabitha, who was 
still busily engaged in fitting together all the 
possible and impossible names she had ever 
heard, in the hope of finding some combination 
which would suit the beautiful boy and please 
his adoring family. 

“Rosslyn Lyle — no, that won’t do; it is too 
hard to pronounce. Rosslyn Leander — that is 
almost as bad. Rosslyn simply won’t go with 
any name beginning with ‘L.’ Rosslyn 
Thomas so he will be named after Tom; but 
then probably Mrs. McKittrick doesn’t like 
Thomas for a name. Few people do, though 
I think it is rather pretty when it belongs to 
someone else but a Catt. Rosslyn Brooks after 
teacher. Why didn’t I think of that before! 


TABITHA AT IVY HALL 149 


Mrs. McKittrick thinks Miss Brooks is the 
loveliest teacher she ever knew; I’m sure she 
would like the Brooks part of it, and I don’t 
see how anyone can help liking the name of 
Rosslyn. It isn’t as grand sounding as Dionys- 
ius, but it is prettier for a baby. Two names 
are so short, though ; and anyway Carrie thinks 
Mrs. McKittrick would like part of it to be 
Vane after the doctor. ]\Ir. McKittrick works 
in the Silver Legion Mines, so I suppose he 
wouldn’t mind if part of the name was Mr. 
Carson’s. I don’t hke Frederick very well, so 
it would have to be Carson. Well, Rosslyn 
Brooks Carson Vane sounds quite pretty — 
very pretty — I like it ever so much. I wonder 
what Mrs. INIcKittrick will think of it.” 

She looked around to see what had become 
of the mother, and beheld a sight that froze the 
blood in her veins. Close beside the wagon 
under which the sleeping baby lay was a huge 
snake coiled as if ready to spring, and her 
heart stood still wdth terror as she realized that 
one move of those little imconscious hands 
might mean death for the precious darling. 
She tried to scream, but her voice stuck in her 
throat. She looked vdldly about her for help. 


150 TABITHA AT IVY HALL 


but the children were wandering on the river 
bank gathering flowers and Mr. Carson was 
busy with the talking machine which was evi- 
dently out of order. Dr. Vane was nowhere 
in sight nor were any of the women within call. 

She must rescue the baby herself. She had 
often seen Tom kill snakes since they had 
come to live on the desert, and once he had dis- 
patched a large rattler not far from their cot- 
tage, though poisonous reptiles were not often 
found so close to town. Oh, if Tom were only 
there ! 

Then her glance fell upon a smooth rock at 
her feet. She was a good shot, but could she 
risk it with that little life hanging in the bal- 
ance? There was another stone, and another. 
She clutched them with trembling hands, crept 
cautiously forward and, taking careful aim, 
hurled the rock at the head of the coiled ser- 
pent. She missed, the snake coiled more 
tightly, sounded its warning and sprung 
straight towards her. This was what she had 
hoped for; and leaping nimbly aside, before he 
could coil for another spring, she struck him 
squarely on the head, following that blow up 
with a perfect rain of rocks, carefully keeping 


TABITHA AT IVY HALt 151 


out of range lest he should coil again, and hurl- 
ing each missile with all her fierce strength, 
losing her fear of her opponent as her anger 
grew. 

Suddenly a shot rang sharply through the 
air, there was a sound of excited voices, the 
children came running toward her with the 
baby’s white-faced mother in advance; and 
Tabitha, dropping weakly to the ground, burst 
into wild, hysterical sobs. With his smoking 
pistol still covering the shattered reptile. Dr. 
Vane, almost as white as the frantic mother, 
gathered the trembling girl in his arms and 
tried to soothe her fright, saying, ‘‘There, 
there, my little Puss ; it is all over ! The snake 
is dead and the baby isn’t harmed at all. Don’t 
cry like that! You did a very brave thing. 
Look up and see the old fellow.” 

Mr. Carson and the boys had clustered 
around the snake, examining it curiously, and 
now the man lifted his head and looked down 
at the doctor, still bending over the girl. 

“I believe she had killed it. Vane, without 
your bullet. What splendid nerve! The fel- 
low’s got eight rattles. Do you want them for 
a souvenir, Tabitha?” But she shook her head 


152 TABITHA AT IVY HALL 


and clung to the doctor, quivering with nerv- 
ous dread. 

After a long time the children were quieted, 
and as the day drew to a close, they clambered 
back into the wagons, and set out on their 
homeward drive, rather subdued, but happy 
that everyone was safe, and proud of their 
mate whose prompt action had perhaps saved 
a life so dear to them all. Tabitha was a hero- 
ine! Poor Tabitha, such an unexpected honor 
was almost as hard to bear as the teasing she 
so bitterly resented, and she hid her head in 
embarrassment and confusion, refusing at first 
to look up or say a word, except to the baby, 
who cooed and crowed in delight in her arms. 

“Do you know,” said the mother, whose face 
was still white and drawn from her fright, “I 
am going to let you name the baby. It is a 
very little thing to do for a girl who has saved 
his life, but I’m not rich and can’t pay a big 
reward like rich folks do.” 

“Oh, Mrs. McKittrick, can I really name 
him? I don’t want any reward for trying to 
save him. Even if you had lots of money I 
wouldn’t take it. He is worth more than 
money and the happiest thing you could do for 


TABITHA AT IVY HALL 153 


me is to let me name him. I’ve got a splendid 
one already picked out for him. I was just 
going to ask you what you thought of it when 
I saw the snake. It is Rosslyn Brooks Carson 
Vane. Isn’t that splendid?” 

So the McKittrick baby was named at last. 







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CHAPTER X 


CARRIE GOES AWAY TO SCHOOL 

Tabitha stood at the open window of Car- 
rie’s pretty room and looked out over the 
scorched landscape burning under the pitiless 
sun of late summer. But she did not see the 
scanty, shrivelled vegetation of the parched 
mountains, nor was she aware of the terrible 
heat of the day that seemed to have burned 
away the ambition of every living creature. 
On the floor beside the little white bed with its 
pink draperies sat Carrie, panting in the sultry 
atmosphere, and anxiously watching the figure 
beside the window, as she fanned herself with 
all the energy she could command. 

“You aren’t a bit glad. Puss,” she said at 
last, trying to keep the disappointment out of 
her voice. But if Tabitha heard she gave no 
sign and the tears rose in the gentle blue eyes 
of the speaker. “I thought you would think 
it was nice.” Still Tabitha made no reply, but 
kept her gaze fixed on the hot sands of the siz- 
155 


156 TABITHA AT IVY HALL 


zling desert. “We have planned it out so of- 
ten, and now when w — I can go, you don’t like 
it.” 

Gulping back the lump that rose in her 
throat, the black-eyed girl by the window 
wheeled toward her playmate, now lying pros- 
trate on the floor, and dropping on her knees 
beside her she exclaimed penitently, 

“I am mean, Carrie! I am glad because 
you are going away to school, but — it is so hard 
to have you leave here — when I can’t go, too. 
Ain’t I selfish? It isn’t as if it would be only 
for a week or even a month, but for whole 
years with only a few days here in the winter! 
And you’re the only friend I ever had so near 
my own age!” 

Tabitha was crying now and Carrie forgot 
her own disappointment in soothing the greater 
sorrow of her mate. 

“Don’t feel so bad. Puss; maybe you can go, 
too.” 

“No, I can’t! There isn’t any use of think- 
ing that, Carrie Carson ! It takes money to go 
to boarding school and Dad never has any 
any more. His claims take all he gets. I wish 
he would let the Cat Group go to Guinea and 


TABITHA AT IVY HALL 157 


work for the Silver Legion like Mr. McKit- 
trick does. Mercedes McKittrick is going 
next year. I want to go so much. I’m almost 
as far as I can get in this little mite of a school 
and I can’t bear to think of growing up a 
know-nothing.” 

“You won’t be a know-nothing, Puss, even 
if you never went to school another day. Papa 
says it is ambition that wins, and you’re the 
most ambitious girl I ever knew. I’d like to 
go to boarding school for the fun of it, but I 
do hate to study. Papa thinks maybe — ” 

She hesitated, remembering that she had 
been cautioned not to tell his plans, for fear 
they might not be successful, but it was hard 
for Carrie to keep such a beautiful secret, when 
she felt so confident that this kind, big-hearted 
father would succeed in overcoming even Mr. 
Catt’s prejudices in regard to a boarding-school 
education for his one small daughter. 

^‘Maybe what?” 

“Maybe — just maybe — he can get your fa- 
ther to let you go.” 

Tabitha was silent for a moment and the 
black eyes shone wistfully; then she answered 
with a heavy sigh, “There isn’t the least chance 


158 TABITHA AT IVY HALL 


of Dad’s letting me go, Carrie. I know Dad. 
Didn’t he tell Tom that if Tom wanted to go 
to college he would have to earn his own money, 
for he had no sympathy for ‘higher education’? 
No, he won’t let me go, I know; and besides, he 
hasn’t the money.” 

“Papa will p — ” began Carrie, and then 
stopped. She had intended to say, “pay all ex- 
penses,” but before the words were spoken that 
might raise Tabitha’s hopes again, she remem- 
bered that she must not tell this part of her 
father’s plans, and was silent. But appar- 
ently Tabitha had not heard, for she was say- 
ing, 

“Tom has worked hard and earned his 
money for the first year and now he is to go to 
Reno and live at Lincoln Hall maybe, while he 
studies. Perhaps he can go clear through col- 
lege without stopping. He says he means to 
finish his course if it takes eight years to get 
through — but it means a heap of money for 
him to earn, and it will be a long time before 
he could help me any, and I can’t draw maps 
for the surveyor or weigh those little gold but- 
tons like Tom does to earn money. There 
aren’t any berries around here to pick, and 


TABITHA AT IVY HALL 159 


Dad won’t let me hunt centipedes and scorpi- 
ons to sell for specimens, like the boys do. 
J ack Leavitt has earned more than ten dollars 
that way. Jimmy Gates kills rattlesnakes for 
pay, but I’m afraid to do that, and I suppose 
Dad would object to that, too. There is really 
nothing on the desert that a girl can do to earn 
money.” 

Still Carrie was hopeful and tried to impart 
her optimism to her heavy-hearted companion. 

‘T believe something will happen yet. Puss, 
so you can go. I don’t care about boarding 
school at all if you can’t go too. Why, Puss, 
what would I do with no one to help me with 
my lessons ? Papa and mamma won’t be there 
to tell me how the horrid examples must be 
worked, and I might just as well stay at home 
if you don’t go. I will never be able to see any 
sense in the lessons. You always make every- 
thing so clear.” 

Tabitha smiled in appreciation of the com- 
pliment, but was not comforted, for to hex the 
hopelessness of the situation was very evident, 
and she changed the conversation by observing, 
‘T think you have the sweetest dresses to wear 
there. Six new ones I Just think of it! I 


160 TABITHA AT IVY HALL 


never in all my life had so many at one time, 
and I never had any so pretty. Two white 
ones, a pink, two blues and a brown — aren’t 
they dear? And three real hats! You ought 
to be the happiest girl on earth, Carrie.” 

She bent over the bed where the new ward- 
robe was displayed, pretending to examine the 
dainty apparel, but in reality to hide the tears 
which would persist in gathering in her eyes at 
thought of separation from this playmate who 
had helped make life so happy for her since 
she had come to Silver Bow. 

“Tabitha!” 

How welcome that voice from across the 
road sounded just then when she wanted to get 
away and be alone for a time with her thoughts, 
and with a hasty hug of the rosy-cheeked girl 
still on the floor by the bed, she rushed out of 
the house to answer her aunt’s call. 

In the cool of the evening Tom found her 
sitting among the rocks high up on the moun- 
tainside, gazing with somber eyes into the 
golden west, for the ocean lay in that direction, 
and it was close to the seashore that Carrie was 
going away to school. 

“What’s the matter. Puss?” he asked gently, 


TABITHA AT IVY HALL 161 


reading tragedy in her mournful attitude, and 
secretly wondering who would champion the 
little sister’s cause when he had gone away to 
college. 

“Nothing much, Tom,” she answered, and 
then amended her statement; “that is, nothing 
that can be helped.” 

He sat down on the rock beside her and 
waited for her confession, but she was silent, 
and for a long time they sat staring off across 
the flat to the mountains beyond, where the 
afterglow of the brilliant sunset still hung and 
radiated from each peak. Then he spoke, 
“Puss, in two weeks I leave for the University. 
Did you know it?” 

She nodded her head. 

“Mr. Carson has just come home from Reno 
and he brought me all sorts of booklets and 
views of the place and particularly of the col- 
lege buildings. Do you want to see them?” 

“Yes!” She was all eagerness, for Tom’s 
joys were hers, and his achievements the pride 
of her heart. So he laid a bundle of papers 
and pictures in her lap and drew nearer that 
he might make explanations and answer the 
questions she was sure to ask. 


162 TABITHA AT IVY HALL 


‘‘There is a High School there, too, Puss, 
and if I have success in earning more than 
enough money to put me through college, I 
will send for you and you will keep house for 
me and go to High School there. Then when 
you graduate from that department, you will 
be ready to go to college, and I will be earning 
a salary, or maybe have an office all my own, 
so I can help you through the University.” 

“That would be nice, Tom, ever so nice, but 
I am afraid you will never earn the money. It 
will take a heap. Carrie is going away to 
boarding school now, and I want to go with 
her, but Dad won’t let me.” 

“So you know?” The relief in Tom’s voice 
made Tabitha look up. 

“Know what?” 

“Have you seen Dad yet?” 

“No, but then I know he never would let me 
go and there is no use in asking.” 

“Oh!” 

“Tom, has he said anything to you about it?” 
asked Tabitha, for she could read this brother’s 
face like a book, and understood now that there 
was more behind his words than he had told 

her. 


TABITHA AT IVY HALL 163 


‘‘No, Puss, not a word,” he declared. 

But she wasn’t deceived, and after a moment 
of silence said, “Then Mr. Carson has.” 

“No, Mr. Carson hasn’t mentioned it — to 
me. 

The pause was hardly perceptible, but Tabi- 
tha’s quick ears discerned it, and she triumph- 
antly confronted Tom with the declaration, 
“You heard him ask Dad!” 

“What a mind-reader you are!” he laughed. 

“Now, didn’t you?” 

“Yes.” 

“And Dad said I couldn’t go?” 

“Yes.” 

“I told Carrie that was what would hap- 
pen.” Her voice was very quiet, her face very 
calm, and the fierce outbreak he had expected 
did not come. He was amazed but he under- 
stood the struggle going on within that tem- 
pestuous heart, and was touched by her silent 
despair. 

“Puss,” he ventured after another long 
pause, “would you rather have me stay here 
with you instead of going to Reno?” 

He held his breath for her answer and his 
heart beat wildly. How could he renounce his 


164 TABITHA AT IVY HALL 


ambitions or even postpone their fulfilment 
when they meant so much to him? But his 
mother had left the little sister in his care, and 
he was all she had to love and help her over the 
rough path her feet had been treading all her 
short life. What would she do without him, 
particularly if Carrie was to go away, too? 
Miss Brooks had already gone and the Vanes 
might at any time return to their city home 
from their long sojourn in this little desert 
town. Tabitha would be bereft indeed if he 
went to college. These thoughts flashed 
through his mind as he asked that vital ques- 
tion and waited for her reply. 

“Why, Tom!” she cried in utter surprise, “do 
you suppose I’d want you to stay here with me 
when you’ve got the chance to get a ‘higher 
education’?” (Those words seemed to fasci- 
nate her.) “That’s better than if I could go. 
You’re a boy — a man, I mean — and you have 
to know lots to be a mining engineer like the 
surveyor. I’m just a little girl, and it doesn’t 
matter whether I know anything or not. You 
must go to the University while you have the 
chance, Tom. I wish I could help you earn 
the money so you would be sure of the whole 
course — 


TABITHA AT IVY HALL 165 


‘‘You precious little Puss!” he cried with a 
voice that would tremble in spite of his efforts 
to hold it steady, and slipping his arm around 
her he gave her a big, boyish hug. “Some day 
everything will come out all right and I am 
sure it won’t be too late for boarding school 
and college either.” 

Unaccustomed to such demonstration even 
from the gentle-hearted boy who loved her so 
dearly, Tabitha sat looking shyly up at the 
tender brovm eyes above her, thinking how nice 
it felt to have his protecting arm holding her 
close, when without warning, he stooped and 
kissed her full on the lips. 

“Oh, Tom, you are the dearest brother! I 
am so glad you are going to college. Then you 
will grow up to be like Mr. Carson instead of 
like a — Catt.” 

“Dad went to college.” 

Tabitha was startled. “Why, Tom!” 

“Yes, he did; but he was expelled for some- 
thing another boy did, and then after he 
started to earn his own living, his partner 
cheated him out of his share in a valuable mine 
and — that’s what makes him what he is now.” 

“How do you know this?” 


166 TABITHA AT IVY HALL 


“Oh, IVe remembered things I heard him 
or Aunt Maria say, and then today he told Mr. 
Carson some of the events of his life. He has 
been rather unfortunate right straight along. 
Only last New Year’s someone ‘jumped’ one 
of his claims that he had somehow neglected to 
prove up on.” 

“I don’t see why that should make him so — 
so — I’m glad you are different, Tom. Do you 
suppose he will keep on until he is like the her- 
mit of the hills?” 

“Who is the hermit of the hills? I never 
heard of him before.” 

“Why, yes, you have ! He lives in that little 
shack over there;” pointing to a rough, dilapi- 
dated hut far down on the mountain side, built 
of odds and ends of lumber and pieced out with 
empty oil cans, rusted red with the rains of 
many winters. Made without windows or 
openings of any sort, except a narrow door on 
one side, it must have presented a very dreary, 
uninviting appearance to its one occupant, who 
was the only person who had ever seen its inte- 
rior, for owing to his peculiar habits, people 
regarded him as crazy and left him severely 
alone. He had never been known to molest 


TABITHA AT IVY HALL 167 


anyone, but sought rather to avoid meeting 
human beings, so he was suffered to remain 
there in his lonely hut on the mountain with no 
one but a stray cur for company. 

“Oh, Surly Sim! I never heard him called 
such a fancy name before. Puss. How did 
you suppose I would recognize him?” 

“ ‘The hermit of the hills’ is a much grander 
sounding name than ‘Surly Sim,’ and he does 
look so lonely off there by himself. I should 
hate to think of Dad shutting himself up like 
that and having folks say he was crazy. He is 
kind to animals.” 

“How do you know. Puss?” asked the boy, 
quickly, surveying his sister with apprehensive 
eyes. “You don’t go over there, do you?” 

“No, indeed. I’m scared of him. Besides, 
he runs if he sees anyone coming. Carrie and 
I were picking flowers the first time I ever 
knew he lived there, or that there was even a 
house over there. He saw us just as he chmbed 
out of a hole — a prospect hole, I suppose — and 
he ran as tight as he could for the house and 
shut the door. We were scared and we ran 
the other way and never stopped until we got 
home. Mr. Carson told us about him then and 


168 TABITHA AT IVY HALL 


said he had never hurt anyone, but he would 
rather we didn’t go over there, for he thought 
the man was really crazy. Since then I have 
often sat up here and watched him when it 
wasn’t too hot. He just thinks lots of the lit- 
tle dog he has, and it is awfully homely; hasn’t 
any tail or ears and is the worst-looking color I 
ever saw.” 

Tom laughed at her earnestness. “Poor 
dog!” 

“Well, you needn’t laugh; it is homely, and 
so is the cat. He has my cat. I couldn’t bear 
to keep it, Tom. Please don’t look at me like 
that. I was awfully hateful to it, I know, but 
Dad would call it ‘Pussy’ and I couldn’t bear 
the sight of it. When I made sure the man 
was kind to the dog, I chased the cat down 
there. I was afraid it would come back, like it 
always did when I shoved it into the prospect 
holes; but it must have liked him right away, 
for it stayed. Now he has an earless cat to go 
with the dog. That was long ago, Tom, be- 
fore the Vanes ever came here to live. I 
wouldn’t be so mean again, but I did hate that 
cat terribly then. I’ve never tried to coax it 
back because it was happier there, but I am 


TABITHA AT IVY HALL 169 


truly sorry that I was ugly to it. I don’t want 
people to hate me because I have such a horrid 
temper and name. I can’t change the name, 
but I can hold on to my temper sometimes, 
though it is hard work and I don’t get along 
very well.” 

“You are getting along a great deal better 
than you think, Puss, and people don’t hate 
you. They like you more every day, which is 
better than going to boarding school, isn’t it?” 

“Y-e-s,” hesitatingly, “but I would like 
mighty well to go with Carrie.” 

“Well, I think some day maybe you can. 
Come home now, it is getting dark and pretty 
soon we won’t be able to see our way down 
through the mesquite.” 


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CHAPTER XI 


A FIRE IN THE NIGHT 

“Aunt Maria, will you let me make some 
molasses taffy? Monday is Carrie’s birthday 
and I haven’t anything else to send her. She 
always gives me something on my birthday. I 
will be real careful and clean up everything 
when I am through.” 

“Well, I suppose you can try it, though I 
hate to have you messing around while I am 
getting your father’s things ready for his trip.” 

“I won’t mess, truly. Aunt Maria,” and 
thankful at receiving even this grudging per- 
mission, she flew out into the tiny kitchen to the 
pleasant task of candy-making, reciting, as she 
rattled among the pots and pans : 

“Lars Porsena of Clusium, 

By the Nine Gods he swore 

That the great house of Tarquin 
Should suffer wrong no more. 

One cup of molasses, one cup of sugar — ^that 
molasses looks awfully black; I wonder if the 

171 


172 TABITHA AT IVY HALL 


taffy will be dark. I like the light-colored 
best. 

‘Hew down the bridge, Sir Consul, 

With all the speed ye may; 

I, with two more to help me. 

Will hold the foe in play.’ 

A lump of butter and a tablespoon of vinegar. 
How pretty the stuff looks boiling up higher 
and higher every minute. Hm, but it’s hot 
work bending over this stove. 

Four hundred trumpets sounded 
A peal of warlike glee. 

As that great host, with measured tread. 
And spears advanced, and ensigns spread. 
Rolled slowly toward the bridge’s head. 
Where stood the dauntless Three. 

My! I would like to have been there and 
watched them. Isn’t Horatius a splendid 
name! And Herminius — isn’t it grand! But 
they are like Dionysius, no one ever uses them 
nowadays. I believe that candy is almost 
done. It is brittle when I put it into water. 
Round turned he, as not deigning 
Those craven ranks to see ; 

Naught spake he to Lars Porsena, 

To Sextus naught spake he.” 


TABITHA AT IVY HALL 173 


She seized the kettle of boiling syrup and 
lifted it off the stove, still speaking the impas- 
sioned lines of that stirring poem, and gesticu- 
lating wildly, heedless of the utensils in her 
hands. 

“So he spake, and speaking sheathed 
The good sword by his side. 

And with his harness on his back. 

Plunged headlong in the tide.” 

Bang! went the kettle against a chair-back, 
and the seething, bubbling mess of sticky brown 
syrup poured in a flood over furniture, girl 
and floor, and trickled in a rivulet around the 
brim of her father’s hat carelessly laid on the 
table while he wrestled with a refractory 
buckle on his grip, packed ready for his depart- 
ure. A gasp of dismay escaped her lips, and 
Tabitha stood aghast in the midst of the ruin. 

“Tabitha Cattl” exclaimed the aunt, ap- 
pearing that moment in the doorway. 

“Tabitha Catt!” echoed the father, looking 
up at the sound of the crash. “I never saw 
such carelessness in my Hfe. Look at that hat! 
My best, too!” 

“You needn’t have left it on the table; that’s 
no place for your wardrobe,” burst out the in- 


174 TABITHA AT IVY HALL 


dignant Tabitha, sucking one blistered finger, 
and frantically shaking her foot where the hot 
drops of syrup had clung and burned. 

Her unfortunate words were like oil to a 
flame. 

“I’ll have none of your impertinence, young 
lady,” cried the irate father, seizing her by the 
shoulder none too gently and giving her a 
shake. “You deserve to be trounced.” 

Tabitha’s heart stood still. The day of the 
licking had come at last! He looked around 
for a stick, but the woodbox contained nothing 
but heavy billets, and her sentence might have 
been suspended had his eyes not rested upon 
his house slippers still lying in the middle of 
the floor where he had thrown them upon dis- 
covering that fussy Aunt Maria had packed 
them among his belongings for his journey to 
the east. Grabbing one of these, he struck the 
trembling girl half a dozen light blows across 
the shoulders, and then dropped it, ashamed of 
himself and startled at the frightened, plead- 
ing look in the black eyes raised to his in mute 
appeal. As the first blow descended, the ter- 
ror in the thin face gave way to anger, intense, 
unreasoning; but she stood like a statue, silent 


TABITHA AT IVY HALL 175 


and dry-eyed, until the slipper fell from her 
father’s hands and he pushed her from him, 
saying sternly, 

“What have you to say for yourself?” 

She wheeled and looked at him with scornful 
eyes; then without a word of reply, gathered 
up both slippers from the floor, walked delib- 
erately to the stove and threw them into the 
bed of live coals before either father or aunt 
could prevent. 

“There, Lynne Maximilian Catt!” she ex- 
claimed in a voice tense with passion, “you will 
never use that pair to larrup me with again.” 

He looked at her in silent amazement, and 
the rage died in his heart. She was the image 
of him. How could he blame her for display- 
ing the passions that he himself had not learned 
to control? He turned back to his satchel on 
the floor and she, surprised that no further pun- 
ishment followed her open rebellion, rushed 
away to her room, dribbling taffy as she ran. 

“Oh, dear, Mrs. Vane’s rule doesn’t work at 
all,” she moaned, nursing her blistered fingers 
and smarting foot, heedless of the molasses 
trickling down the front of her dress. “I 
never remember to count ten, and I suppose if 


176 TABITHA AT IVY HALL 


I did get that far, I would let the hateful words 
fly after them. It is just like me. That is 
what comes of being a Catt ! If I only had a 
different name maybe it would be easier; but 
with a whole cat name, how is anyone going to 
keep from scratching?” 

The hot tears came, and for a long time she 
lay sobbing into the fat pillow which had seen 
so many floods of this kind that it had grown 
very much accustomed to it. 

She heard the door open and shut and her 
father’s footsteps died away in the distance. 
He had gone without another word to her ; but 
then this was nothing unusual. He never said 
good-by to anyone when he left home — ^that is, 
he had never done so but once. When he had 
started on his last trip, he had waved his hand 
to her, and called, “Good-by, Tabitha. Be a 
good girl.” She had been startled at the un- 
expected words, and little thrills of joy had 
crept through her heart every time she thought 
of them. They were one of the hoarded treas- 
ures in her memory book, and she had hoped he 
would always remember to wave a farewell 
when he went away again. Now she had made 
him angry. Well, he had made her angry, 


TABITHA AT IVY HALL 177 


too. She didn’t intend to spill the candy; he 
ought to know that; but he had struck her. 
She was twelve years old now and this was the 
first licking. She had dreaded it all her life; 
and was just beginning to think she had grown 
beyond the age of whippings when the dreadful 
punishment had befallen her. No, it didn’t 
hurt much, the blows were not heavy enough 
for that, but the ignominy of it! 

Why couldn’t her father be like Carrie’s? 
When he had waved his hand at her, she had 
thought maybe in time he might become like 
Mr. Carson, and now he had punished her with 
the licking that had threatened her ever since 
she could remember. She hated him ! 

“But I was impudent,” she told herself as 
her fierce anger abated somewhat. “I needn’t 
have said anything about his hat. Maybe then 
he wouldn’t have struck me at all. Perhaps if 
I had said I was sorry and had cleaned up his 
hat again, he would have waved good-by to me. 
Perhaps — just perhaps he might have kissed 
me as Carrie’s father does. But I suppose it 
would be too soon to expect kisses.” 

“Tabitha, have you gone to bed?” It was 
Aunt Maria’s voice nervous and shaking. 


178 TABITHA AT IVY HALL 


“Not yet. What’s the matter?” she asked. 

‘T thought maybe you would just as soon 
sleep in Tom’s room tonight. There’s a band 
of gypsies camping a little way up the road, 
and I don’t like the idea of us two women folks 
being left alone all night. I tried to get Max 
to stay until morning, but he said he couldn’t 
make connections if he did. I don’t suppose 
there is anything to be afraid of, but this is our 
first night without a man in the house, and I 
am as nervous as a witch.” This was a long 
speech for Aunt Maria, but she had a bad at- 
tack of the fidgets, and found relief in words. 

Tabitha had forgotten that her father’s de- 
parture would mean she and Aunt Maria must 
stay alone on the desert, for Tom had gone 
a’^ay to college ten days before; and now at 
her aunt’s words she felt a little tremor of fear 
pass over her. She had never quite outgrown 
the feeling of oppression these black nights on 
the desert gave her, for the hills shut out the 
lights of town, and Carson’s house was the 
only tenanted one near them. Somewhere she 
had heard that a man had died in the other lit- 
tle cottage in their neighborhood which had 
stood vacant ever since their arrival at Silver 


TABITHA AT IVY HALL 179 


Bow, and it was even hinted that his ghost had 
come back to haunt it. True, she had never seen 
anything to warrant her believing these stories, 
but she stood in awful dread of that house be- 
yond them; so she was only too glad for her 
aunt’s suggestion that she sleep in Tom’s bed. 

Trying to put these things out of her mind 
and to think of more cheerful subjects, she 
gathered up her belongings, and crept into the 
little box-like room, hardly big enough to turn 
around in, saying in reassuring tones to Aimt 
Maria, 

“Of course there is nothing to be afraid of. 
Those campers aren’t gypsies, but a lot of pros- 
pectors, and I think they moved on after they 
had cooked supper. At least, I saw them go- 
ing towards town, horses and all. I reckon 
they had to lay in some more supplies and so 
camped near the stores to get an early start in 
the morning.” 

“Well, I wish there was a man in the house. 
I never did like to stay alone at night, and this 
desert is the blackest place I ever got into. I 
don’t believe I shall ever get used to it.” 

“You aren’t alone. I’m here, and I’m past 
twelve. There isn’t anything to hurt us, and 


180 TABITHA AT IVY HALL 


we haven’t anything that robbers would want 
if they should come along. Thieves would 
know better than to visit a desert town, Aunt 
Maria.” 

Nevertheless, the woman’s nervous terror 
found an echo in Tabitha’s heart, and instead 
of undressing, she exchanged her soiled dress 
for a fresh one, removed her shoes, and climbed 
into bed with her clothes on. For a long time 
she lay tossing on the unfamiliar couch, listen- 
ing to the night sounds without, and the hideous 
brays of the wandering burros ; but at last she 
fell into an uneasy slumber, and dreamed that 
she had gone away to boarding school, but in- 
stead of having Carrie for a playmate, her 
companions were two blazing shoes who kept 
offering her molasses taffy out of her father’s 
hat. She awoke with a start, trembling in 
every limb, and frightened at her strange sur- 
roundings. Then she remembered how she 
came to be there, and lay down again on her 
pillow; but she could not sleep. 

In the distance she heard the sound of a 
dog’s insistent harking, and was annoyed by 
the plaintive howls. She stopped her ears but 
could not shut out the sound, and in despera- 


TABITHA AT IVY HALL 181 


tion she sat up and looked out of the window, 
wishing that morning would dawn. 

The night was very dark, but the starlight 
seemed to break the heavy blackness that 
hung like a pall over the landscape. Off to- 
ward the horizon, in the direction of the dog’s 
barking was a faint glimmer of wavering light, 
and Tabitha watched it idly for a moment, 
wondering if there were campers in that little 
hollow, too. ' Then the light grew brighter and 
more flickering, the barking more frantic, and 
Tabitha started up in terror. 

‘Tt’s the hermit’s house on fire ! What can I 
do? Neither Tom nor Dad is here to give the 
alarm, and town is so far away.” 

She flew out of bed and to the dresser where 
her father’s pistol was kept, lifted the ugly 
weapon from its case and mechanically cocked 
it. Tom had taught her to use a rifle, but «he 
had never been allowed to handle a revolver, 
though she had watched him so often that she 
was familiar with its mechanism, and had no 
thought of fear as she sped fleetly out of the 
house, pausing only long enough to slip on her 
sticky shoes. 

Bang, bang, bang! went the gun in rapid 


182 TABITHA AT IVY HALL 


succession; bang, bang, bang! Six times the 
report rang sharply through the still night air, 
— the signal of fire in this little desert town. 
Then tossing the empty pistol aside, she ran 
down the road as fast as her feet would carry 
her, all her terror of the night swept away in 
the one idea that the townspeople might be too 
late to help the old man if he should happen to 
be in the burning house. She never stopped to 
wonder what aid she, a child of twelve, could 
render, she never thought of arousing Mr. Car- 
son, but stumbled breathlessly on in the dark- 
ness toward the shack now burning merrily. 

Somewhere behind her she heard a second 
revolver alarm; then someone passed her in the 
road, and a man’s voice called, “Go home, 
Tabitha. This is no place for you.” But still 
she kept on, having scarcely heard the words, 
and hardly aware that other help than her own 
feeble strength was at hand. 

That was a night she never forgot. In these 
desert mining towns where water costs a dollar 
a barrel and the system of piping it into the 
houses is yet in its infancy, fire is not an easy 
thing to fight, and many a time the whole camp 
has been destroyed before the conflagration 


TABITHA AT IVY HALL 183 


could be checked or would burn itself out. The 
hermit’s hut, however, was so isolated that the 
town was in no danger, even from the flying 
sparks, but there was not a drop of water to 
throw on the flames, and the roads were too 
steep and rough for the volunteer fire depart- 
ment to drag their chemicals to the rescue. 

So the little shack burned to the ground, but 
Mr. Carson and Tabitha arrived in time to pull 
the lone occupant to safety, though it was a 
close call for the old miner, for he was almost 
suffocated with the smoke and his head and 
hands were badly burned. 

Mr. Carson, too, suffered from his buffeting 
with the flames, but Tabitha came out un- 
scathed, and when the men from town arrived, 
hatless and anxious, they found the child help- 
ing the brave superintendent in his efforts to 
revive the unconscious hermit, while the little 
yellow cur whined in terror at their feet, and 
the blaze of the burning house mounted high 
in the heavens. 

Dr. Vane was among the crowd, and he qui- 
etly took charge of the patient, easing his suf- 
fering and binding up his wounds as best he 
could while someone went for a rig that the in- 


184 TABITHA AT IVY HALt 


jured man might be carried back to town more 
easily. 

‘‘Now, put some of that stuff on Mr. Carson’s 
hands,” commanded Tabitha, who had watched 
the proceedings with interest, holding band- 
ages and passing ointments under the physi- 
cian’s directions. “His are all scorched, too.” 

“How are your own?” someone asked her, 
noticing how drawn and white her face was in 
the lurid glare. 

“I did that making candy last evening,” she 
answered, displaying her blistered fingers, now 
raw and sore. “I forgot all about them.” 

Overcome by excitement, weariness and 
pain, she let the doctor gather her in his strong 
arms, and the proud citizens of Silver Bow 
bore their little heroine triumphantly home. 


CHAPTER XII 


DR. VANE HAS A VISITOR 

By the next morning Tabitha had fully re- 
covered from her terrible night’s experience, 
but it was days before the old hermit awoke to 
consciousness to find himself lying in a white 
bed in the Miners’ Hospital of Silver Bow with 
Dr. Vane bending over him and a motherly 
woman in white cap and apron moving about 
the room. 

“Where am I?” he asked faintly. 

“In the Silver Bow Hospital,” answered the 
doctor. 

“How came I here?” 

“You were hurt. You mustn’t talk now. 
When you are stronger you can ask ques- 
tions.” 

“But I must know how I got here. Who 
found me? I was sick, I remember, and I 
think I tried to send Bobs for help, but he 
wouldn’t leave me.” 

“You upset a lamp or something and set the 
185 


186 TABITHA AT IVY HALL 


house afire. Catt's little girl discovered the 
blaze, gave the alarm and helped Carson haul 
you out. It was a tight pull, my man, but you 
will soon be all right now.” 

“Catt’s girl? Carson?” 

“Yes. No more questions at present. Save 
your strength and get well.” 

So the bandaged man lay quiet among the 
pillows and waited for health to return to him 
again; nor did he ask for further information 
until one day the doctor told him that on the 
morrow he might go for a walk in the open air 
if he wished. 

“Could you bring that little girl to see me?” 
he asked, and the physician, surprised because 
the patient had never before manifested any 
interest in his rescuers, replied that he would 
see about it. So that afternoon when school 
had closed, Tabitha was met at the door by Dr. 
Vane and went with him to see the hermit of 
the hills. Surly Sim. 

She found him sitting by the window, look- 
ing out toward the flaming west where the sun 
was already sinking behind the mountain tops, 
and he did not turn when she entered the room, 
or give any sign that he saw or heard her. She 


TABITHA AT IVY HALL 187 

waited in silence for some moments beside his 
chair, and then, thinking he had not heard her 
enter, she said timidly, 

“How do you do, Mr. Hermit? Dr. Vane 
said you would like to see me.’’ 

The man started at the sound of her voice 
and turning in his chair stared so fixedly at her 
that she was frightened and wished Dr. Vane 
had stayed with her. “Is there something — 
can I do anything for you? Would you like 
to have me speak some pieces for you?” Poor 
Tabitha had not the faintest idea what to say 
to this man, whose scarred face shocked and dis- 
concerted her, and there was no one in the room 
to help her. 

“What’s your name?” finally asked the her- 
mit. 

“Tabitha Catt.” 

“Pretty name!” He laughed mirthlessly 
and the girl shrank as if she had been struck. 
She had not expected him to make fun of her 
and was undecided whether to be hurt or an- 
gry. He was kind to animals; she had hoped 
to meet that same kindness toward herself. 

“It’s a horrid name, but I can’t help it, for I 
didn’t name myself,” she answered with dig- 




188 TABITHA AT IVY HALL: 

nity, resolved to hold firmly to the fiery temper 
that caused her so much unhappiness. 

“Why don’t you drop it and take some 
other?” he asked curiously, aware that she was 
making an effort to control herself. 

“I did once,” replied the girl with a dejected 
air, in such contrast to her former haughty 
bearing that he was amused. “But it didn’t 
pay.” 

“Why not?” 

“Dad made me take it all back.” 

“Tell me about it.” 

“That’s all there is to tell. I let folks be- 
lieve my name was something else and he made 
me tell them what it really was.” 

“What was the name you adopted?” 

“Theodora Marcella Gabrielle Julianna 
Victoria Emeline.” 

“Whew! How could they ever remember 
it all? That’s a long handle for a little girl.” 

“They called me Theodora Gabrielle for 
short.” 

He smiled in spite of himself. “And do 
you really wish your name was that whole 
string?” 

“I did wish so once. That was when I was a 


TABITHA AT IVY HALL 189 


little bit of a girl. I am twelve now. In next 
April I will be thirteen. Girls are young la- 
dies when they get into their teens. Aunt Maria 
says. If I could change my name now, I 
would rather it would be Theodora Eugenia 
Louise. That is shorter, and long names are 
not the style any more. Theodora was my 
mother’s name and I should want that for mine 
always.” 

“Do you look like your mother?” 

“I reckon not. She died when I was too 
little to know anything, but if either of us 
looks like her it must be Tom. I am afraid I 
resemble Dad.” 

“Afraid?” 

He spoke this word with a peculiar rising in- 
flection, but she did not catch the significance 
of the question, and rephed, “Yes. He is tall 
and thin and black and slab-sided. That’s me, 
too, except I am short yet ; but I expect I will 
grow. Besides, I’ve got the Catt inside of me. 
I scratch like fury when I am mad. Now 
Tom doesn’t get mad, though his name is al- 
most, or just, as bad as mine.” 

“What do you get mad at?” 

“Lots of things, but ’specially my name. 


190 TABITHA AT IVY HALL 


Folks make such fun of it and say the hate- 
fullest rhymes, and when they do that I just 
light into them with my fists/’ 

“And you a girl!” 

“I am always sorry afterwards, but then it is 
too late to help it. I’ve got to learn to let them 
tease without getting mad at all and then they 
won’t torment me, but it is a mighty hard thing 
to do, I think. I’ve been trying for twelve 
years now and it is almost as bad as ever. Tom 
says I am doing splendidly, but he doesn’t 
know how often I get mad.” 

“Where is Tom?” 

“Going to college at Reno.” 

“College, eh? He’s a smart boy, is he?” 

“Yes, indeed! We’re both smart.” He 
laughed at her naive reply, and her face 
flushed, but she continued convincingly, “I am 
almost as far as I can get in school here. I am 
ready for Latin. Mrs. Carson says if I can’t 
go to boarding school next fall, she will teach 
me herself, so I can keep up with Carrie.” 

“Why didn’t you go this year?” 

“There wasn’t any money.” 

“Would you like to go?” 

“Wouldn’t I!” was the emphatic exclama- 


TABITHA AT IVY HALL 191 


tion, as she clasped her hands in rapturous 
longing. 

‘Tf you could have one wish granted what 
would it be?” 

“What do you mean?” 

“If you were told that you could have any 
one thing you wanted, what would you 
choose?” 

“Only one?” 

“Yes.” 

“Well, it would be pretty hard to choose. I 
want to go to boarding school awfully bad, but 
— I believe — I would choose a home like Car- 
rie Carson’s.” 

“Carrie Carson’s! What is the matter with 
your own? Isn’t your house as big as theirs 
or as nice?” 

“No, but I wasn’t thinking of houses just 
now. A house isn’t a home always. Our 
house isn’t. Tom and I are the home part of 
our house. Aunt Maria is housekeeper and 
Dad just stops there once in a while. They 
don’t care about having a home, I reckon.” 

The man was silent with astonishment at her 
keen observations, and mistaking his silence for 
disapproval at her criticisms, she hastily re- 


192 TABITHA AT IVY HALL 


sumed, “The kind of a home I mean is where 
all the folks in it like each other and are always 
nice like the Carsons.’’ 

“So your father isn’t like Mr. Carson?” 

“Not a bit — yet.” 

“Is he mean to you?” 

“N-o, not exactly. He is a Catt, that’s all. 
I reckon it is me — I, who is mean. I get mad 
and sass him when he shakes me, and once when 
he whipped me I burned up his slippers.” 

“Does he whip you often?” 

“No, this was the only time — so far. I 
spilled candy on his best hat, which is enough to 
make any man mad; but being a Catt, he was 
very mad. I haven’t seen him since, because 
he is away on a trip, but when he comes back I 
am going to tell him I am sorry I burned up 
his shoes. I was just beginning to think may- 
be there was hopes of his being like Mr. Carson 
yet when I made him mad. Now I suppose I 
will have to begin all over again.” 

“Then you think your father is improving?” 

“Why, you see. Dad has had a hard time of 
it. There have been so many things to make 
him feel bad. When he was in college he got 
expelled because of something dreadful an- 


TABITHA AT IVY HALL 193 


other boy did, and then a man who was work- 
ing with him in the mines cheated him out of all 
his share, and mamma died, and money has 
been hard to get and — well, he got cross.” 

“So he took his spite out on his children, eh? 
Who was the man who cheated him?” 

“I don’t know, but Dad doesn’t believe in 
friends any more. He says there is no such 
thing as a true friend. Mr. Carson says that 
is because the man he trusted ‘betrayed his con- 
fidence’ — ^those are his very words.” 

The bandaged figure in the invalid chair 
moved uneasily, and a silence fell over the hos- 
pital room while he stared gloomily out into 
the fading light, and she sat lost in her own 
thoughts. Suddenly he roused, and his voice 
sounded sharp and curt as he said, “It is nearly 
night. Time you were going home.” 

Tabitha’s face crimsoned at his peremptory 
dismissal, and she bounced out of her chair in- 
dignantly. 

“You sent for me. I didn’t come because I 
wanted to. Good-by.” 

She was gone before he recovered his breath, 
and never a word had passed between them 
concerning the fire which had so nearly cost him 


194 TABITHA AT IVY HALL 


his life, though his purpose in sending for her 
was that he might thank her for her bravery. 
He called after her, but she did not hear his 
voice, and the door closed with an emphatic 
bang which told him plainer than words how 
angry she was. 

For a long time after she left him he lay 
quietly by the window in the twilight, thinking 
over what she had told him and battling with 
himself; but in the end his better nature con- 
quered. The next day he went for his walk, as 
Dr. Vane had suggested, and that was the last 
Silver Bow saw of him for some time. Some 
folks thought he had met with foul play, others 
that he had wandered too far for his strength 
and had either perished or been taken care of 
by some prospector, while still others held the 
opinion that he had taken French leave. Spec- 
ulation as to his disappearance soon died down, 
however, and Surly Sim, Tabitha’s hermit of 
the hills, was forgotten. 

The holidays came, bringing Carrie home for 
a brief vacation, and she was bubbling over 
with such enthusiastic reports of life at board- 
ing school that Tabitha found it harder than 
ever to let her go back to enjoy the privileges 


TABITHA AT IVY HALL 195 


which were denied her. So great was her grief 
that after seeing her flaxen-haired playmate 
on board the train to return to her school, she 
rushed away to pour out her despair to sympa- 
thetic Mrs. Vane. 

‘T don’t see why it is that some people have 
everything and others nothing,” she sobbed bit- 
terly. ‘T can’t help envying Carrie. She has 
the nicest mother and father and the prettiest 
house and the loveliest books and clothes and 
all the money she wants. And so has J erome. 
They both go away to school and have splendid 
times and see the world, and I can’t have any 
of it.” 

“Poor little girlie !” murmured the woman to 
herself. “How unjust it does seem, even from 
a grown-up’s standpoint!” So she stroked the 
heavy black hair and cuddled tearful Tabitha 
until the storm was spent; then she spoke ten- 
derly, “That is one of the problems that has 
puzzled the world all these years, dear, and has 
caused all sorts of trouble. But it is some- 
thing that we can overcome, every one of us, if 
we want to.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“Just this. Puss; don’t sulk and be cross be- 


196 TABITHA AT IVY HALL 


cause you can’t have everything you want. Be 
happy where you were put. Did you ever hear 
the little poem called The Discontented But- 
tercup? It is the story of a buttercup who 
mourned because she couldn’t be a daisy with 
white frills like her neighbor flowers, and she 
didn’t see the loveliness of the day nor feel the 
softness of the breezes because she spent all 
her time in vain wishes. So she asked a robin 
who had paused to rest near her if he wouldn’t 
try to find her a nice white frill some time when 
he was flying. And then these verses follow: 

‘You silly thing,’ the robin said, 

‘I think you must be crazy; 

I’d rather be my honest self. 

Than any made-up daisy. 

You’re nicer in your own bright gown; 
The little children love you; 

Be the best buttercup you can. 

And think no flower above you. 

Look bravely up into the sky. 

And be content with knowing 

That God wished for a buttercup 
Just here, where you are growing.’ 


TABITHA AT IVY HALL 197 


“Take this little lesson to heart, dear, and 
make sunshine where you are, instead of being 
sorrowful because you can’t have what Carrie 
has. Maybe when you have learned the lesson 
thoroughly, these other things will come to you ; 
but if they don’t, then keep on making sun- 
shine. Everyone loves a happy heart, and 
every smile or kind word spoken cheers the old 
world a little. Life is like a stairway, but be- 
cause all of us can’t reach the top of the flight, 
we should not sit down on the first step and 
mourn because we can’t have what those on the 
last stair are enjoying. We must climb as 
fast and as far as we can if we want to make 
the most of our lives; but when we have done 
our very best, that is all we can do. If there are 
others who can do better than we can, we must 
try not to envy them, but be glad of their suc- 
cess. It is a question, dear, that you will un- 
derstand better as you grow older. But if you 
will remember the buttercup verses and make 
the most of what you are and have, I am sure 
you will be happier.” 

“Teach me the verses, Mrs. Vane, and I will 
try to remember them when I get to envying 
again; though I still wish I could have nice 
dresses and go to boarding school.” 


198 TABITHA AT IVY HALL 


Mrs. Vane smiled at her candor, but found 
the little poem for Tabitha, and when she 
skipped out into the dusk for home, she was 
saying over and over, 

“Look bravely up into the sky. 

And be content with knowing 
That God wished for a buttercup 
Just here, where you are growing.” 

She had hardly disappeared over the hill 
when another visitor climbed the steep path to 
the Vane cottage and knocked. The doctor 
himself opened the door and was confronted 
by a tall stranger muffled to his ears in a heavy 
ulster. 

“Come right in, sir,” said the doctor, motion- 
ing his visitor into the cosy office, and waiting 
for him to state his errand. 

“You don’t remember me?” asked the man, 
as he sat down and threw open his coat. The 
voice sounded very familiar, but at first the 
doctor could place neither face nor figure. 
Then he remembered — it was Surly Sim. 

“Well, well, where did you come from? I 
have often wondered what became of you. This 
country is a bad place for a sick man to get lost 


TABITHA AT IVY HALL 199 


The hermit laughed. ‘T had some business 
that had to be attended to and I was afraid you 
wouldn’t let me go so soon. Can you keep a se- 
cret?” 

The doctor was startled at the abrupt ques- 
tion, but replied gravely, “That is part of a 
physician’s life.” 

“Yes, but I have no reference to your pro- 
fessional duties. I mean this — I want you to 
take this money and see that Tabitha Catt is 
educated — boarding school, college, whatever 
she likes. I think that sum will cover — ” 

“Why don’t you take it to her yourself?” 

The doctor was more than puzzled at this 
unusual request from such a person as Surly 
Sim, the supposed crazy man, the hermit of 
the hills. 

Startled at the unexpectedness of the ques- 
tion, the man stammered confusedly, “I — no — 
I can’t — ^not yet. I have reasons for preferring 
to handle the matter in this manner at present. 
You need have no scruples. I earned every 
cent of this money; it is my very own. The 
child saved my life, and I owe her whatever help 
I can give her. This is a little sum, but it is the 


200 TABITHA AT IVY HALL 


best I can do just now. Will you take it and 
do as I ask?” Still the doctor hesitated. 
“Then see here, perhaps I can convince you of 
the truth of what I say. Read this.” He laid 
on the table before the doctor a written docu- 
ment which the physician carefully perused, 
and laid back on the table. “Do you believe me 
now?” 

“Yes.” 

“And will you take the money for the little 
girl?” 

“Yes, but I wish I could convince you that it 
would be better for you to go to Mr. Catt — ” 

“Not yet, not yet! I can’t meet him yet. 
He mustn’t know who I am yet. When I 
have righted the wrong, then I will come back ; 
but for the present I would ask you to keep my 
secret and see that the little girl is sent to 
school. You will do this?” 

“To the best of my ability.” 

They shook hands and out into the darkness 
the hermit went. 


CHAPTER XIII 


AUNT MARIA DECIDES THE QUESTION 

“Behind him lay the gray Azores, 

Behind the gates of Hercules; 

Before him not the ghost of shores, 
Before him only shoreless seas. 

The good mate said: ‘Now must we pray, 
For lo! the very stars are gone; 

Speak, Admiral, what shall I say?’ 

‘Why say, sail on! and on!’ 

There goes another cup. I am always for- 
getting and letting my hands fly when I speak. 
Yes, Aimt Maria, I am coming.” 

“Hurry up with those dishes, Tabitha, I 
want you to run down to the McKittrick’s and 
get me that pattern she promised to loan me. 
Child, what have you done? I don’t know 
what we will eat out of when you get all these 
dishes broken. How did you smash that?” 

“It banged against the door when I opened 
it.” 

“I’ll warrant you were haranguing around 
with another new piece. Why don’t you pay 
201 


202 TABITHA AT IVY HALL 


attention to what you are doing until it is fin- 
ished, and then do your reciting?” 

‘T just hate to wash dishes and dust and 
sweep, Aunt Maria, but I forget all about it 
when I am speaking and get through with 
them lots quicker.” 

“Yes, but see how many dishes you break, 
and the things you spill because you will flap 
your arms about like a Dutch windmill instead 
of keeping them in the dishpan where they be- 
long. I do wish you would learn to do one 
thing at a time.” 

“It is of no use. Aunt Maria. My thoughts 
won’t stay on dishes, try as hard as I will to 
keep them there. There isn’t anything 
splendid or inspiring in a pile of dirty dishes 
or those dusty chairs, is there? But those poems 
are simply grand! I am the best speaker at 
school, but I have to practice all I can to keep 
ahead. Just listen to this: 

“Then, pale and worn, he kept his deck. 
And through the darkness peered that 
night. 

Ah, darkest night 1 and then a speck — 

A light! a light! a light! a light! 


TABITHA AT IVY HALL 203 


It grew — a star-lit flag unfurled! 

It grew to be Time’s burst of dawn ; 

He gained a world! he gave that world 
It’s watch-word: ‘On! and on!’ 

Isn’t that perfectly grand?” The black eyes 
glowed, the face lighted with enthusiasm and 
her whole form swayed with the stirring in- 
spiration of the lines. 

Aunt Maria was visibly impressed. “Yes, it 
is fine and you certainly do put life into any- 
thing you say; but that’s just it, you put too 
much life in it and smash up everything you 
touch. Hurry now and get that pattern, for I 
want it as soon as possible.” 

“All right, I will be back in a jiffy.” Tabi- 
tha snatched up her sunbonnet and disap- 
peared up the path toward town, still reciting, 
“Sail on! sail on! and on!” 

And silence descended upon the cottage that 
bright Saturday morning, for Aunt Maria was 
too much absorbed in some very important sew- 
ing to pay any attention to the housework and 
cooking still waiting to be done. In the midst 
of her thoughts as she sat puzzling over a fash- 
ion book, came the sound of an incessant buzz- 


204 TABITHA AT IVY HALL 


ing or hissing, so unlike any noise she had ever 
heard that she paused in surprise to listen. 

“Now, what in creation has that child done 
this time?’’ she exclaimed after a moment. “It 
doesn’t sound like the tea-kettle or as if she had 
left the water running. What can it be? I 
have to follow her around like I would a baby 
— she is that careless !” 

With an impatient sigh the woman dropped 
her work in the nearest chair and shuffled out to 
the kitchen to investigate the peculiar sound, 
formulating in her mind a lecture to be deliv- 
ered to the erring Tabitha upon her return 
from McKittricks. 

But the lecture was straightway forgotten 
in the sight that met her gaze as she stepped 
into the room; and she stopped, paralyzed with 
horror. In the middle of the floor, coiled as if 
ready to strike, lay a long, hideous snake, its 
head raised, forked tongue darting, and hissing 
that ceaseless buzzing note that had attracted 
her attention in the first place ; while around and 
around the reptile circling nearer and ever 
nearer, walked the hermit’s crooked-tailed, 
cropped-eared cat, its back arched, tail erect, 
fur standing stiff all over its body, and round 


TABITHA AT IVY HALL 205 


yellow eyes glued in fascination to the enemy 
luring her to death. Not a sound did the poor 
cat make, but continued her march with a spas- 
modic rhythm that would have seemed ludi- 
crous had it not been so pathetically fearful. 
Even Aunt Maria’s arrival upon the scene did 
not break the charm, and the horrified woman 
stood still in the doorway too frightened to 
move, too terrified to call, too shocked to think. 
It was almost as if the snake had cast its horri- 
ble spell over her, also. 

“Hurrah! the foes are moving. Hark to the 
mingled din 

Of fife, and steed, and trump, and drum, and 
roaring culverin.” 

The sound of Tabitha’s hurrying steps out- 
side, and the fresh young voice thrilling over 
those familiar words brought the woman to her 
senses, and with a cry of desperation. Aunt 
Maria caught up the heavy ironing board in 
the corner and banged it with all her strength 
full upon the hissing coil on the floor, regard- 
less of the fate of the cat. But the hysterical 
scream of the woman had broken the charm, 
and the frightened feline made a frantic dash 


206 TABITHA AT IVY HALL 


for the screen door, spitting and clawing in its 
frenzy to escape; while Aunt Maria, trembling 
and unnerved, sank into a sobbing heap on the 
floor, too much shaken to think of escape. 

Such was the scene that confronted Tabitha, 
as she rushed up to the door, terrified by her 
aunt’s cry and the wild scratching of the im- 
prisoned cat. As she flung open the screen 
there was a flash of black, a quavering meow 
and pussy, crazed by her terrible experience, 
streaked out of sight up the mountainside. 
But Tabitha did not pause to watch her flight, 
so amazed was she at the sight of Aunt Maria 
in tears huddled in the corner and shaking as 
if with ague. 

“Why, Aunt Maria, what is the matter?” 
she cried in scared tones, pausing just inside 
the door. “Are you hurt? Did the cat go 
mad? Were you ironing and the board tipped 
over?” She stooped to lift the heavy piece off 
the floor, and the woman suddenly found her 
tongue: “Don’t touch it, don’t touch it! There’s 
a snake under it! Oh, oh, oh!” 

“Are you bitten. Aunt Maria? Tell me, are 
you bitten?” 

“Oh, that snake!” 


TABITHA AT IVY HALL 207 


“Shall I get the doctor?’’ 

“Oh, that snake!” 

Leaping across the board still pinning the 
reptile to the floor — dead or alive she did not 
know — Tabitha clutched the hysterical woman 
by the shoulder and shook her, demanding, 
“Tell me this minute if you are hurt!” 

But Aunt Maria continued her incoherent 
cries, still rocking back and forth in her corner, 
too dazed to make any further explanations. 
Tabitha surveyed the scene in perplexity. What 
should she do? The Carsons were away from 
home and no one else near enough to summon 
to her aid. If the snake had bitten her aunt, 
something must be done at once. All the reme- 
dies for poisonous bites that she had ever heard 
of seemed to have slipped from her memory. 
It might be too late by the time a doctor could 
be called. Precious seconds were rapidly pass- 
ing. Supposing the snake were not dead yet. 
She glanced at the board in the middle of the 
floor and fancied it moved. In desperation she 
seized the teakettle from the stove and let its 
scalding contents fly over the spot where the 
snake might be. 

At that instant her eyes fell upon the flask 


208 TABITHA AT IVY HALL 


her father carried on his trips among the 
mountains, and she remembered in a flash that 
whiskey is a good antidote for rattlesnake 
bites. This might not be a rattlesnake and 
it might not even be a poisonous one, but 
she would take no chances. Snatching off 
the cap, she poured a stream of the fiery liquid 
into the woman’s open mouth, nearly stran- 
gling her. Choking and spluttering. Aunt 
Maria tried to scream, but could only gasp for 
breath, and to Tabitha’s frightened eyes her 
face took on a dying look. A pail of water 
stood on the stand under the faucet, and catch- 
ing up this, the child deluged the convulsed 
form in the corner. 

There was a sharp in-drawing of breath, a 
sound of mingled surprise and wrath, and the 
irate aunt towered above the astonished girl, 
her eyes blazing as Tabitha had never seen 
them before. 

“Tabitha Catt!” she managed to articulate, 
“of all outrageous things I ever heard tell of in 
my life! What do you think you are doing? 
Trying to murder me ? Haven’t I had enough 
scares this morning without your burning the 
skin all off my mouth and throat and choking 


TABITHA AT IVY HALL 209 


me half to death and then trying to drown me? 
What do you mean by it, I say?’' 

“Oh, Aunt Maria, are you bit?” 

“Bit, bit, bit, did you say? Yes, bit by that 
fire you poured into me. What did you think 
bit me?” She had forgotten all about the 
snake ! And Tabitha had difficulty in explain- 
ing the situation to her. 

But that decided matters for Aunt Maria. 
She had hated the desert ever since she had 
come there nearly four years ago, and this was 
the last straw. What did she care if the snake 
did prove to be a harmless thing? If she 
couldn’t live in a house without being in danger 
of a snake invasion at any time, she simply 
would not live there at all. Her temper was 
thoroughly aroused, and when Mr. Catt ar- 
rived home that night she made known her de- 
cision in no gentle terms to him. 

“I have lived in this forsaken hole just as 
long as I am going to. Max Catt! I’ve routed 
out centipedes and scorpions and poison bugs 
of all kinds until I am tired of it. Tabitha 
caught a baby tarantula under her bed the 
other morning, and we found something in the 
wood-pile last week that the folks at the hotel 


210 TABITHA AT IVY HALL 


called a Gila monster. Why, one can’t stir 
around here in the spring and summer without 
running the risk of getting killed by some of 
your varmints, and I’ve had enough of it. I 
am going back to civilization.” 

“Now, Maria, be sensible. That snake 
couldn’t have got into the house if the screen 
had been shut the way it should have been.” 

‘T suppose the spiders and centipedes come 
in through the open screen, too, don’t they, and 
roost in the dishpan hanging on the wall ! That 
is where I found one not long ago, and I 
caught another stowed away in my clothes 
when I went to dress yesterday. I don’t dare 
go to sleep nights any more for fear they will 
bite me. Life is a perfect nightmare. It is 
bad enough to have to stay here nine-tenths of 
the time with nobody in the house but Tabitha, 
without being in constant fear of one’s life all 
the time.” 

“How many people do you ever hear of be- 
ing killed here on the desert by centipedes or 
scorpions or tarantulas, or even snakes? I tell 
you they aren’t half as bad as they are made 
out to be.” 

“Well, I ain’t going to risk my life to find 


TABITHA AT IVY HALL 211 


out how poisonous they are, Maximilian, and 
you needn’t think it.” 

“But Maria, what will become of Tabitha? 
She can’t stay here alone and keep house,” he 
argued. 

“There ain’t any need of her staying here 
alone. She can go to boarding school in Los 
Angeles with Carrie Carson. If you weren’t 
so thoroughly selfish you would have sent her 
there long ago with your own money ; but even 
now when that hermit she saved from being 
burned up has given her enough money to put 
her clear through college, you won’t let her 
touch a penny of it.” 

“Maria Catt, how am I to know that money 
was honestly his? I believe he stole it, and I 
don’t care to get mixed up in any robbery case. 
There is something underhanded about the deal 
or he would have come to me with the money. 
I may be selfish but I am not dishonest,” he 
ended, hotly. 

“Dr. Vane is satisfied, and he is a shrewd 
enough man to know what is what. That her- 
mit wasn’t a robber and you know that without 
any proof. He has mining claims here that 
prove where he got his money.” 


212 TABITHA AT IVY HALL 


“Then why didn’t he turn it over to me, in- 
stead of to the doctor? He has virtually made 
Dr. Vane trustee of those funds.” 

“That only shows he has some sense,” his 
sister interrupted with energy. “You don’t 
know how to look after a child properly. But 
you know' well enough why he didn’t come to 
you. How could he, with you off chasing up 
syndicates and other fools to buy up your 
claims — ” 

“Those claims are worth money, Maria Catt, 
and some day I will prove it to you. 1 
w^ouldn’t think of parting with one of them if 
I had the money to work them the way they 
ought to be worked. The ‘Tom Cat’ is particu- 
larly promising.” 

“That may be, but it is a sin and shame to 
pay more attention to those old mines than you 
do to your children. Here is Tom working his 
way through college when it is your duty to 
put him through — ” 

“I told Tom long ago that if he wanted a 
college education he would have to earn it. I 
can’t see that University courses make any bet- 
ter men of the boys that get them than experi- 
ence does of the boys that are not as well edu- 


TABITHA AT IVY HALL 213 


cated. In fact, I think — and always did — 
that experience is the best teacher.” 

“ You’ve got a grouch against the world be- 
cause you think it hasn’t treated you right, and 
you’re spitting your spite out on your children. 
Here is Tabitha, now, — as bright a child as I 
ever laid eyes on — ” 

“And as ugly a one.” 

“Whose fault is that, Maximilian Catt? If 
she had been brought up differently she would 
compare favorably with any child in the coun- 
try. She does compare favorably in spite of 
her bringing up. The teacher says she never 
haii such a bright scholar in all her school ex- 
perience. She learns surprisingly quick.” 

“I don’t see anything surprising about that. 
The Catts are not ignoramuses, none of them.” 

“I know that all right. I’m a Catt myself, 
and while I never set myself up to be overly 
quick-witted, I think I have my share of 
brains, and might have amounted to something 
if I had some more education.” 

“Shucks! What are you always harping on 
that string for? Education isn’t everything in 
the world. Tabitha can get all the learning a 
woman needs right here in this town.” 


214 TABITHA AT IVY HALL 


“Because the girl hankers for knowledge, 
you are just determined to make her as miser- 
able as you can, and if she was half as much 
Catt as you are, she would grow up just as 
spiteful and selfish; but thank goodness, she 
has some of her mother’s traits. If she was a 
little mite and needed my care, I would stay, 
even if I did get killed for my trouble; but she 
is big enough now so I can leave without any 
qualms of conscience, and I am going to leave. 
You can do just whatever you like with her, 
but I will not stay here for love or money. 
Find a housekeeper if you can, but whether or 
not you do, I am going back East just as soon 
as I can get my things packed. I am abso- 
lutely unnerved over that snake. I can’t turn 
around without seeing the thing coiled ready 
to spring, and that poor cat chasing around 
like a thing crazy; and when I shut my eyes 
there are whole strings of ’em dancing up and 
down like all possessed until I am half wild. 
That cat never came back and I believe that is 
a warning. I am going to follow its example.” 

No arguments could prevail to change her 
mind, and she immediately began packing for 
her departure. 


TABITHA AT IVY HALL 215 


Poor Mr. Catt, what was he to do ? The pos- 
sibility of Aunt Maria’s leaving them had 
never occurred to him, in spite of her oft re- 
peated threats ; and now that she had suddenly 
determined to return to her own home he was 
facing anything but an agreeable situation. 

It was out of the question for Tabitha to 
take charge of the housekeeping and stay there 
alone much of the time as she would have to 
do when he was away. It was equally out of the 
question to secure a reliable housekeeper in this 
little desert town. But the idea of accepting 
the hermit’s money and sending her away to 
school was very repugnant to him and he was 
at a loss to know what to do. 

Aunt Maria’s fright had given her unusual 
courage and she had told him some unpleasant 
truths, things she would never have dared say 
under ordinary circumstances; but after his 
surprise at her daring had died down he faced 
her accusations, fought them out one by one, 
recognized the truth of them and capitulated. 
Tabitha could go away to boarding school. 
Words are inadequate to express Tabitha’s 
joy when told this delightful news; she was lit- 
erally entranced with the prospect. 


216 TABITHA AT IVY HALL 


The night that Aunt Maria had departed 
for her eastern home, Tabitha sat disconso- 
lately on the back steps, alternately patting 
General Grant’s head resting on her knee, and 
trying to study her grammar lesson, but the 
nouns and verbs would become hopelessly 
mixed, and the adjectives and adverbs fought 
scandalously with each other. Mr. Catt, tilted 
back in his chair beside the window, tried to 
read the city paper, but found his glance wan- 
dering constantly to the lonely figure on the 
steps. 

“I am a beast,” he said to himself, as the 
brown hand swept a tear off the page she was 
supposed to be studying. “ This is no place for 
a child like that. She has the making of a fine 
woman in her, and I haven’t done right by her. 
She is bright, and Maria is right. Tabitha!” 

She started violently. “Yes, sir.” 

“Come here.” 

Closing her book but keeping it clasped in 
her hands she went inside the house and stood 
waiting to know his pleasure, surprise — almost 
apprehension at this unexpected summons — 
showing plainly in her face. “You were recit- 
ing some gabble on the steps a little bit ago. 
Say it again.” 


TABITHA AT IVY HALL 217 


“Gabble?” said the puzzled girl question- 
ingly. 

“Yes, something about Ghent.” 

“Oh, that wasn’t gabble! That is a master- 
piece, teacher says. Why, Robert Browning 
wrote that!” 

“Um-hm. I’m not interested in Robert 
Browning. All I want is that piece. Speak 
it.” 

Astonished and not comprehending this de- 
mand in the least, Tabitha began falteringly, 
somewhat indifferently : 

“I sprang to the stirrup, and Joris, and he; 

I galloped, Dirck galloped, we galloped all 
three 

But as the familiar words slipped from her 
tongue, the spirit of the piece came over her. 
Her voice grew tense with feeling and the 
hands that never could stay still lent their aid 
to the difficult art of expression. 

“So, we were left galloping, Joris and I, 

Past Looz and past Tongres, no cloud in the 
sky; 

The broad sun above laughed a pitiless 
laugh. 


218 TABITHA AT IVY HALL 


’Neath our feet broke the brittle bright stub- 
ble like chaff ; 

Till over by Dalhem a dome-spire sprang 
white. 

And ‘Gallop,’ gasped Joris, ‘for Aix is in 
sight!’” 

Her hand shot out toward the imaginary 
Aix, the ill-fated grammar was forgotten, it 
slipped from her loosened clasp, flew through 
the air and struck the elder Catt a heavy blow 
in the stomach. 

“Uhl” grunted the startled man, the tilted 
chair tipped uncertainly, he clutched wildly at 
the smooth wall, and landed in an undignified 
heap in the middle of the kitchen floor, rapping 
his head smartly against the pantry door. 

“Tabitha Catt!” She held her breath in dis- 
may and waited for the punishment she was 
sure would follow. “Go on with that piece!” 

Nothing could have surprised her more than 
that command, and for a brief moment speech 
forsook her. Then gathering up her scattered 
wits, she finished her recitation with all the vim 
she could muster, and waited. Though pos- 
sessing a keen sense of the ludicrous, Tabitha’s 
o^vn troubles never appealed to her in this 


TABITHA AT IVY HALL 219 


light, and as she stood looking down at the tali 
form sprawling on the floor, the amusing side 
of the situation never occurred to her. She 
was too busy wondering what would come next. 

“Hm!” was the unexpected comment after 
a thrilling silence. “You did well in the first 
part, but toward the end where the excitement 
should increase, you let it fall. How would 
you like to go to boarding school with Carrie in 
September?” 

“Oh, Dad, if I only could!” The voice and 
face expressed all the pent-up longings of the 
little heart, and Mr. Catt felt a great lump 
rise in his throat as he watched this one small 
daughter and realized his own shortcomings; 
but he swallowed it back and said briefly, “If 
you are a good girl, I reckon maybe you can 
go.” 

A long sigh of rapture burst from her, and 
seizing her father’s black head in her arms, she 
gave it a quick, impetuous hug. Then, discon- 
certed by this unusual display of affection, 
she fled out of the house and up to her seat on 
the mountainside, overlooking the ruins of the 
hermit’s hut, where she held an ecstatic thanks- 
giving service all by herself. 


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CHAPTER XIV 

TABITHA^S ROOM-MATE 

The long, hot summer weeks came to an end 
at last, the dainty dresses were finished, the 
trunk packed, the short journey completed, 
and Tabitha stood breathless and quaking on 
the great stone steps before the goal of her am- 
bitions, with the confident Carrie and timid 
Mercedes beside her, waiting to be admitted to 
the imposing edifice. 

‘T can’t believe yet that I am really here,” 
she sighed. 

“Oh, that feeling will soon wear off,” an- 
swered Carrie, and then the heavy door swung 
noiselessly open and Carrie motioned the two 
girls into the cool shadows of a wide hall, which 
to Tabitha seemed more like a beautiful garden 
than the interior of a house, for ropes of 
glossy-leaved ivy festooned the long, French 
windows, and palms and tall vases filled with 
flowers occupied every available nook and 
corner. 


921 


222 TABITHA AT IVY HALL 


“Isn’t it grand?” she breathed in ecstasy. 
“I shall love it here, I know. I do hope I can 
room with you, Carrie.” 

“Sh! I am afraid you can’t. Puss, but 
maybe you and Mercedes will be put together. 
Here comes Miss Pomeroy, the principal.” 

A stately, silvery-haired lady in shining 
black was approaching them through the 
great doors at the end of the hall, and Tabitha 
eyed her with sudden disfavor. 

“I don’t see how I can hope to like her when 
I shall always think of that sneaking Joe and 
Sneed Pomeroy in Ferndale every time I hear 
her name.” But the moment the woman spoke, 
she forgot everything else in listening to the 
sweet, musical voice that somehow made one 
instantly feel at home and welcome. 

“My dear Carrie,” the lady was saying, as 
she kissed the rosy cheek of the flaxen-haired 
child. “I am so glad you have come back look- 
ing so well. And these are your httle friends 
of' the desert! Which is Tabitha, and which 
Mercedes? We are delighted to have two more 
Silver Bows with us this year. Carrie and I 
are great friends, and I am sure we all shall 
be.” 


TABITHA AT IVY HALL 223 


‘‘Has Cassandra come yet?” asked Carrie 
eagerly, and her face fell when Miss Pomeroy 
smilingly nodded her head. 

“Why, Carrie Carson, are you sorry?” 

“N-o, but if she is here I suppose I can’t 
have Tabitha for a room-mate.” 

“You precious little girlie! No, I have 
made other arrangements for Tabitha and 
Mercedes. Cassandra’s mother wrote and 
asked me particularly if her daughter might 
not have ‘dear little Carrie Carson’ for room- 
mate again this year, for the child adores her 
and will do anything in the world to please 
such a lovable child. Now surely after that 
plea you aren’t going to desert poor Cassan- 
dra?” 

“Oh, Miss Pomeroy, I do like Cassandra 
ever so much, but — I would like to have Tabi- 
tha better.” 

“And how about Mercedes?” 

“She is almost Cassandra’s age, and they are 
sure to be friends.” 

“Aha! had it all planned out, did you, little 
sly-boots?” laughed the woman, gently pinch- 
ing the flushing cheek of the embarrassed Car- 
rie. “There, dear, I was just teasing. I want 


224 TABITHA AT IVY HALL 


to please all my girls, but sometimes I have to 
disappoint them a little. Mercedes will room 
with Bertha Peck who was here last year, and 
Tabitha we will try with Chrystobel Clayton. 
Come now, and I will show you your rooms. 
Bertha is here already, but Chrystobel has not 
arrived. Carrie, you have the same room you 
had last year, and little Cassandra is busy dec- 
orating it now — a labor of love, dear.’’ 

Up the wide, polished stairs she led them, 
and along the corridor, on either side of which 
were several doors, most of them closed, but 
through the two or three standing ajar Tabi- 
tha’s bright eyes caught glimpses of merry- 
faced girls in the midst of an interesting clut- 
ter of open trunks, over-loaded beds and bu- 
reau drawers, and her quick ears heard 
snatches of rollicking music or the buzz of gay 
conversation. 

“This is your room, Tabitha. Mercedes is 
your next-door neighbor, and Carrie is just 
across the hall. Go in and make yourself at 
home. Bertha, come welcome your room- 
mate.” 

A tall, fair-haired girl rose from the low 
rocker by the window, and came quickly for- 


TABITHA AT IVY HALL 225 


ward, saying cordially, “Mercedes, I am glad 
you have come. I have been here three days and 
am beginning to be homesick. Isn’t that a 
state of affairs? You don’t look a bit as I 
thought you would. Has your trunk arrived 
yet? And this is Tabitha, our little kitty? 
You certainly must be our mascot. Your 
room-mate isn’t here yet, so you can help your- 
self to whichever bed and closet hooks and bu- 
reau drawers you want. There really isn’t any 
difference in the size of them, but it is sup- 
posed to be a great thing to have first choice.” 

While the older girl talked she drew Mer- 
cedes inside the room, divested her of hat and 
satchel, jerked out the empty drawers of the 
dresser, and threw open the tiny closet door 
with such a hospitable air that the homesick 
child of the desert felt cheered and comforted 
at once, and Tabitha found herself wishing it 
had been her lot to share Bertha’s room. 

It was lonely all by herself in the room that 
seemed bare in spite of its pretty furnishings, 
for nothing familiar greeted her eyes, and its 
unadorned walls looked quite depressing in 
their spotless creamy white. Carrie had dis- 
appeared, and Miss Pomeroy’s steps were de- 


226 TABITHA AT IVY HALL 


scending the stairway; so she closed her door 
quietly, observing that two or three curious 
faces were peering at her from across the hall; 
and with a feeling half homesick, half exul- 
tant, Tabitha hung up her hat and turned for 
a more studied survey of her surroundings. 

“Twenty-eight hooks in the closet, fourteen 
for me and fourteen for Chrystobel. Isn’t that 
the lovehest name? I never heard of it before. 
I wonder if she will be as nice as she sounds! 
But of course she will. Carrie says the girls 
are all nice. Four drawers in the dresser, two 
little ones and two big ones. I will take the 
bottom big drawer and the little one nearest 
the window. Bertha says the drawers are the 
same size, but the bottom one looks a little 
deeper. Here is a string, I will measure. — 
They are exactly the same. That’s where you 
got fooled, Tabitha Catt! See what comes 
from being stingy? — I would like the bed near- 
est the window, but maybe I better leave that 
for Chrystobel. — Clear as crystal and sweet as 
a bell. I wonder if that is what her mother and 
father thought when they named her that. 
These rockers are i-den-ti-cally the same. 
That’s fortunate. It won’t be any temptation 


TABITHA AT IVY HALL 227 


to choose the prettiest. We will have to tell 
them apart by putting bows on them. I will 
tie one of my red hair-ribbons on mine; there 
are four new ones in my box of ribbons. I wish 
they would bring up my trunk. I would like 
to unpack while I have nothing else to do. 
Wonder where Carrie is. Wish she would 
come in and talk to me, it seems so strange here 
all alone.” 

There was a bold knock at the door, and 
thinking it might be her trunk, she flung it 
wide open with the words, “Bring it right in, 
please, and set it in — oh, I thought — ” 

“You thought it was your trunk,” giggled 
the lisping midget who faced her in the door- 
way, “but it ain’t. I am Cassandra Hertford. 
Carrie is my room-mate. Isn’t she a darling? 
She told me you and Mercedes McKittrick had 
come, and I had to run in to see you. Carrie 
has gone to see about the trunks. She said she 
would introduce you when she came back, but 
I couldn’t wait. Where’s Mercedes? Oh, she 
is to be with Bertha Peck, isn’t she? Let’s go 
see her.” 

Clutching astonished Tabitha by the hand, 
she dragged her out of the room and before 


228 TABITHA AT IVY HALL 


any remonstrance could be offered, pushed 
open the door of the next apartment and an- 
nounced her arrival with the shout, heard all 
over the hall, “Hello, Bertha and Mercedes! 
Here I am with our Tabby Cattl” 

Tabitha’s sensitive face flushed crimson and 
the angry light sprang to her eyes, but Bertha 
rose to the occasion with the ready tact which 
had made her one of the most popular girls. 

“Cassandra, dear, this is our Kitty, the mas- 
cot of this floor. Come and meet her, girls;” 
and before Tabitha realized what had hap- 
pened, six or seven laughing girls emerged 
from the various rooms along the hall, and sur- 
rounded her, all chattering gayly and appar- 
ently not noticing Tabitha’s awkward, enlbar- 
rassed manner. Carrie joined them shortly, 
and received an enthusiastic greeting, for it 
was evident that she, too, was a general favor- 
ite. And such a laughing and chattering as 
followed! And how the time flew! In the 
midst of their merrymaking a gong sounded. 

“Goodness gracious, girls! is it so late? I 
haven’t finished unpacking yet. Half an hour 
to get ready for tea, Tabitha;” and they dis- 
persed to their rooms. 


TABITHA AT IVY HALL 229 


Tabitha followed their example and flung 
open the door at the end of the hall for the final 
touches to her toilette, but stopped on the thres- 
hold in surprise. Standing in front of the 
mirror, arranging her long, smooth curls, was 
a girl about her own age, clad in an over- 
trimmed gown of thin white stuff, and wearing 
an immense bow of white at either side of her 
head. At the sound of Tabitha’s entrance she 
turned languidly and surveyed the intruder 
with cold, disapproving eyes. Tabitha re- 
turned the stare with one of undisguised ad- 
miration, for never had she seen anyone so 
beautiful. “Oh, are you Chrystobel?” she 
cried in rapture. “I’ve been wondering if you 
would fit your name.” 

“I am Chrystobel Clayton,” answered the 
stranger in a frigid tone which was entirely 
lost on the other. “Do I fit?” 

“Oh, yes, you are the handsomest girl I ever 
saw. Carrie Carson is pretty, but you are 
beautiful!” 

“What is your name?” asked Chrystobel, 
still with a haughty air, but considerably 
pleased with the open admiration of her com- 
panion. 


230 TABITHA AT IVY HALL 


‘‘Tabitha Catt,” came the slow answer. 

“What an exceedingly queer cognomen!” 

Tabitha caught her breath, then said slowly, 
“It isn’t very pretty, perhaps; but — one gets 
used to their name so they don’t mind it.” 

“Well, I must say if I had such an odd name 
as that I would change it. I never could get 
used to it; but then, some people haven’t as 
sensitive natures as others.” 

Tabitha made no reply, but with a queer 
sense of rage in her heart she walked across to 
the dresser and bent to open the lower drawer 
where she had carefully laid the few things her 
small grip had contained. 

“Here,” exclaimed Chrystobel sharply, 
“don’t touch that drawer! That is mine. How 
dare you!” For Tabitha in her start of sur- 
prise had jerked the drawer free from the 
dresser and it fell with a bang in the middle of 
the floor, disclosing to view a disorderly array 
of garments which did not belong to Tabitha. 

“What have you done with my things that 
were in there?” demanded the black-eyed girl 
indignantly. “I was here first and had the 
right to make first choice. It makes no difF er- 


TABITHA AT IVY HALL 231 


ence to me, though; the drawers are just the 
same size and I would as soon have the other.” 

Without waiting for a reply, she reached for 
the upper drawer, but before she had a chance 
to open it, Chrystobel caught and held it shut 
as she cried angrily, “My things are in there, 
too. What did you expect — ^to keep the whole 
dresser for yourself?” 

“That seems to be what you want,” retorted 
Tabitha, thoroughly enraged. “What have 
you done with my things?” 

“They are in the top drawers. You aren’t 
entitled to more than two.” 

“I’m entitled to a big one and a little one, 
Chrystobel Clayton, just the same as you are, 
and I intend to have them, what’s more!” 

“Miss Pomeroy said it didn’t make any dif- 
ference which two drawers I took for my 
own — ” 

“She didn’t say you could have both the big 
ones, and you aren’t going to have them, so 
now !” 

Snatching up the drawer on the floor, she 
emptied its contents on the nearest bed and 
turned to restore it to its place in the dresser, 
but the angry Chrystobel stopped her and 


232 TABITHA AT IVY HALL 


tried to take it from her hands, declaring, 
“That belongs to me, and you shall not have 
it, I say!” 

Tabitha promptly inverted the disputed 
piece of property and sat down upon it, saying 
quietly, though her eyes flashed dangerously, 
“Get it if you can!” 

But her companion dared not make the ven- 
ture, for the clenched hands looked too for- 
midable, and the spoiled Chrystobel was an 
arrant coward; so she stood beside the dresser 
glowering at the triumphant girl astride the 
drawer, and at last finding vent for her anger 
in the spiteful remark, “Your name fits you 
exactly. All cats scratch!” 

“Well, your name doesn’t fit you at all,” was 
the ready reply, “and I was mistaken when I 
said you were the prettiest girl I had ever seen. 
I take it all back. You’re as ugly as sin!” 

“Are you going to give up that drawer?” 

“No, not if I have to sit on it all night. You 
can’t be a pig if you are going to room with 
me. I took only what was my right. You 
have no business to claim both big drawers.” 

“I didn’t want to room with you anyway — ” 

“Neither did I want you!” 


TABITHA AT IVY HALL 233 


‘T shall tell Miss Pomeroy!” threateningly. 

‘T wish you would!” 

“There goes the gong for tea!” 

“I am willing. Ill go without supper be- 
fore I will give up this drawer, and you may 
as well understand that first as last.” 

“You are perfectly hateful! You aren’t 
even decently polite.” 

‘T can’t see that you have more than your 
share of manners.” 

“You are as horrid as your name.” 

“You are a great deal worse than yours!” 

“Girls, girls! What is the reason that you 
are not down in the dining hall?” Miss Pome- 
roy, stately, majestic and stern, stood unan- 
nounced in the doorway. 

“She won’t let me have a drawer to put my 
things in,” began the girl with curly hair and 
the handsome face. 

“That’s a lie!” screamed Tabitha, bouncing 
to her feet and dancing up and down in furious 
passion. 

“Tabitha Catt! I am surprised at you!” 
exclaimed the principal, looking sorrowfully at 
the angry child. “Chrystobel, what is all this 
racket about?” 


234 TABITHA AT IVY HALL 


‘T put my things in the dresser, and she said 
I had taken her drawer and couldn’t have it.” 

“She did take my drawer — ” 

“Tabitha, I am talking to Chrystobel now.” 

“She took both big drawers and — ” 

“Tabitha!” 

“Expected me to have just those two little 
ones in the top — ” 

“Tabitha!” 

“She said you said she could have her choice 
and — ” 

“Will you listen to me?” 

“She dumped my things out of the drawer — 
the bottom one — and poked them in those little 
mites of ones. It isn’t fair — ” 

“Tabitha Catt!” 

“For her to have two big ones and me two 
little ones, but — ” 

“Tabitha, leave the room until I call you 
again!” 

“She wouldn’t give up either one,” and in a 
perfect storm of grief and anger, Tabitha 
swept out of the room, her expostulations still 
pouring in a torrent from her quivering lips; 
and throwing herself flat on the hall floor, she 
buried her face in her arms. 


TABITHA AT IVY HALL 235 


F or some minutes IMiss Pomeroy’s low, even 
voice could be heard in the little room at the 
end of the corridor, interrupted occasionally 
by Chrystobel’s sullen tones ; then Tabitha was 
summoned again, and with reddened eyes she 
entered the door to learn her fate. 

“Tabitha, Chrystobel is sorry she took your 
belongings out of the bottom drawer without 
asking your leave, and she has put them back 
as she found them — ” 

“She has opened every blessed thing and 
peeked at it,” was Tabitha’s indignant com- 
ment as she saw the mussed-up contents of the 
lower drawer, now restored to its place in the 
dresser. 

“Tabitha!” Miss Pomeroy’s lips twitched, 
but her voice was very stern, and the maid from 
Silver Bow flushed redder than ever, and con- 
tritely cried, 

“That was very hateful of me, but really. 
Miss Pomeroy, she never put those things back 
as she found them, because I had that drawer 
looking very neat and now see the muddle it is 
in!” 

“We will discuss that later. I am shocked 
to think any of my girls would act in such an 


236 TABITHA AT IVY HALL 


unladylike manner as you have. Whenever 
any dispute arises over your possessions, you 
are to come straight to me, or to Madame Du- 
Bois, who has charge of this floor. Don’t ever 
let me hear of such actions again. Now, in 
order to prevent any further dissension, we 
will decide which bed and chairs each of you 
is to have and which hooks in the closet.” 

Tabitha’s eyes sought the open closet as Miss 
Pomeroy spoke, and now she burst out angrily, 
“She has taken all the hooks but seven on one 
end! I should have fourteen because there are 
twenty-eight in all.” 

“Tabitha, if I have to speak to you again for 
interrupting, I shall send you to the oflice to 
stay until bedtime. Chrystobel, take your 
clothes ofl* seven of those hooks and give them 
to Tabitha. Now, Tabitha, which bed do you 
want?” 

‘T can’t sleep near the window; mamma 
never allows it,” spoke up the haughty Chrys- 
tobel. 

“That suits me all right,” thought Tabitha, 
but aloud she merely said, “It makes no differ- 
ence to me.” 

“Then you may have the bed by the window. 


TABITHA AT IVY HALL 237 


As for the chairs, they are exactly alike — ” 

‘T want this rocker,” interrupted Chrystobel 
again, “the other squeaks, and I can’t bear 
that.”* 

“Perhaps,” observed Miss Pomeroy sarcas- 
tically, “it would be advisable to mark your 
chairs with strings or ribbons, or something so 
there will be no possibility of a recurrence of 
this dispute. Come now to the dining hall 
and have your tea. I won’t punish you this 
time, but if such a disgraceful scene occurs 
again, I shall not he lenient with either one.” 

“I don’t care where my things are put,” said 
irrepressible Tabitha, “and I’m not trying to 
be a pig, either, even if I was here first ; but I 
do want what belongs to me by rights !” 

Miss Pomeroy smiled in the dimness of the 
stairway, as she replied with emphasis, “I ex- 
pect all my girls to obey the rules laid down for 
them, and if they won’t do that, then they can’t 
stay here.” 

Tabitha’s indignation subsided suddenly. 
What a dreadful thing it would be if she 
should be sent home! She ought to have 
thought of that possibility before. Now Miss 
Pomeroy was angry with her and she had made 


238 TABITHA AT IVY HALL 


a miserable beginning of the delightful board- 
ing school life she had dreamed so much about.. 
Two hot tears gathered in her eyes again, but 
just at that minute she heard Chrystobel mut- 
ter between her teeth so the principal could not 
hear, ‘T hate you!” 

“It’s mutual!” was Tabitha’s vindictive re- 
ply, and with head up, she stalked stiffly down 
the stairs behind Miss Pomeroy. 


CHAPTER XV 

THE FIRST NIGHT AT IVY HALL 

That first night at Ivy Hall — for this was 
the name of the boarding school — was long re- 
membered by Tabitha. Fifty bright-eyed, rosy- 
cheeked girls gathered with the little staff of 
instructors around the long tables in the breezy 
dining hall, laughing and chattering merrily 
about their happy vacations, greeting friends 
of the previous year with girlish enthusiasm, 
and welcoming the strangers among their num- 
ber with a cordiality that made them feel as if 
they had always belonged there. It was such 
a wonderful experience to our little maid from 
the desert that she could scarcely touch the 
tempting meal spread before her, but sat like 
a statue, drinking in the happy scene with a 
hungry heart. 

“See that little dark-eyed lady at the end of 
our table?” said a winsome-faced girl at Tabi- 
tha’s right, who answered to the name of J essic 
Wayne. “She is Madame DuBois, the French 
teacher, who is in charge of our floor. Your 
room is across from Carrie’s, isn’t it?” 


240 TABITHA AT IVY HALL 


“Yes/’ answered Tabitha, shyly. “She looks 
as if she might be lovely.’’ 

, “Oh, she is! Next to Miss Pomeroy, she is 
the most popular teacher here. The red- 
headed, cross-looking, fat woman at the second 
table is Miss White, who has classes in music 
and drawing. She is lots better than she looks. 
Miss Summers is the next teacher. People 
often mistake her for a pupil here. Isn’t that 
a joke? She does look awfully young, but this 
is her fourth year at Ivy Hall. She is a dar- 
ling, too.” 

“Who teaches Latin?” ventured Tabitha, as 
her talkative companion lapsed into silence 
long enough to take a bite of bread. “Carrie 
said there was to be a change this year.” 

“Yes, we have a new Latin instructor. Her 
name is Miss Cornwall. She is the one sitting 
in the corner, wearing glasses. She looks 
mighty severe, but I’ll bet she can be jolly. 
Miss Pomeroy never has a cross teacher here. 
I heard her tell Madame that Miss Cornwall is 
to be on our floor, too. I suppose she will have 
the room next to Carrie’s, as that is the only 
vacant one at that end of the corridor.” 

‘‘ Who is the tall lady at Miss Pomeroy’s ta- 


TABITHA AT IVY HALL 241 


ble?” asked inquisitive Tabitha, eager to make 
the acquaintance of all the staff of teachers. 

“Miss King, of the domestic science depart- 
ment. Oh, you will like her! She is splen- 
did T 

“That’s what you’ve said about them all,” 
laughed the black-eyed girl, privately thinking 
she had found the Garden of Eden. 

“Well, they are! Really, I believe Ivy 
Hall is the loveliest boarding school there is in 
the world. We are just like one great, big 
family here. Miss Pomeroy makes the dearest 
mother.” 

“What are the other teachers, then? Aunts?” 
Tabitha asked. 

Jessie shouted. “I never thought of it be- 
fore, but that is surely what they are, and they 
do give us the loveliest times, and make the les- 
sons so interesting that it doesn’t seem like 
study at all. But they are awfully particular. 
They won’t take any kind of a girl here. She 
has to be well recommended and even then 
there are always about twice as many girls who 
want to enter as there is room for. This year 
there were forty who couldn’t get in.” 

“Oh!” breathed Tabitha, recalling with 


242 TABITHA AT IVY HALL 


alarm Miss Pomeroy’s words on the stairs. 
“Do they ever send them away after they have 
begun school here?” 

‘T — don’t — know. Why, yes, sometimes. 
There was a girl here last year who cheated and 
took things that didn’t belong to her and was 
real saucy to the teachers ; and when she went 
home at Christmas time she never came back. 
She told us that she didn’t want to, but I think 
Miss Pomeroy wouldn’t let her. There goes 
the signal for assembly. We always meet just 
after tea each evening for chapel services.” 

“Chapel services?” 

“Yes. We sing a hymn or two and listen to 
a short talk from one of the teachers before go- 
ing up to our rooms for study. Likely Miss 
Pomeroy will speak tonight, as this is the first 
evening. Sit anywhere you wish. Here’s a 
hymn-book.” 

Tabitha accepted the hook, slipped into a va- 
cant seat in the corner, and marvelled at the 
sudden hush that fell over the noisy throng as 
the silvery-haired principal arose to address 
them. This wise lady was not given to ser- 
monizing, but talked in a confidential, moth- 
erly fashion, telling them of her hopes and 


TABITHA AT IVY HALL 243 


expectations for the school year lying before 
them, explaining the few rules it had been 
found necessary to lay down for the governing 
of so many active little bodies, and filling each 
girlish heart with inspiration and a desire to 
win this dear woman’s approval. 

‘Tt is not our aim to make our school a 
prison,” said the sweet voice to the attentive 
throng, drinking in every word. “We want 
our girls to be happy and light-hearted and 
gay; we hope to fill every hour with sunshine 
and music and laughter. We are anxious that 
each one of you shall love Ivy Hall with your 
whole heart — not merely because of the merry 
days you enjoyed inside its walls, but because 
of the lasting help you shall have gained here, 
for we are gathered under this roof to study, 
you know, and not to idle away the golden 
hours, but you will find there are many lessons 
to be learned in boarding school that are not 
contained in books. You are all away from 
home and its influences, many of you for the 
first time in all your lives ; and it is the duty of 
this little band of teachers to train and instruct 
the minds and bodies intrusted to our care. 
This is a pleasant task for us, and we shall do 


244 TABITHA AT IVY HALL 


our best for each individual girl, but in return 
we shall expect you to do your best for us. 

“Our lives are like gardens; our faults are 
the weeds, our good traits the flowers, and we 
are the gardeners. If we are careless and do 
not try to overcome the faults, they flourish 
and grow stronger each year, and in the end 
will choke out all the flowers. While if we 
honestly seek to cultivate the good qualities we 
all possess, and to weed out the unworthy acts 
and thoughts, our gardens will grow beautiful 
and will be a pleasure to all our friends, as well 
as to ourselves. I hope my girls will all try 
to root out the weeds in your lives — the hot 
tempers” — Tabitha thought the kindly eyes 
looked straight at her as these words were 
spoken — “thoughtless words, selfish habits, 
envy, jealousy, and the countless other things 
that make so many lives unhappy. Cultivate 
kind thoughts, gentle words, good deeds, unsel- 
fishness and sunny dispositions. Don’t let 
bickerings or harsh speeches or unkind acts 
mar the spirit of harmony we want in our 
school. Take for your motto the Golden Rule, 
and treat all your companions as you would 
like them to treat you. Be the best girl you 
know how to be.” 


TABITHA AT IVY HALL 245 


From her corner of the room Tabitha sat 
glowering at Chrystobel opposite, trying to ab- 
sorb the teacher’s helpful words, while in her 
heart she was blaming her room-mate for the 
scene of the previous hour, and wondering how 
she could get even with the enemy. Chiysto- 
bel returned the sour looks with interest, even 
making a wry face occasionally behind her 
hand when Miss Pomeroy chanced to be look- 
ing in the other direction, for this spoiled maid 
was equally as sure that Tabitha was the sole 
cause of the disturbance. 

But when the girls were all in bed that night, 
the lights turned out and the great building 
silent, Tabitha’s anger abated. Miss Pomeroy’s 
words kept repeating themselves in her mind, 
Jessie’s unconscious warning filled her with 
uneasiness, gentle Mrs. Vane’s motherly lec- 
tures came back to haunt her, and Mr. Carson’s 
advice of long ago suddenly sprang into mem- 
ory and would not let her rest. When she 
closed her eyes they rose before her inner vision 
in such a provoking fashion that sleep refused 
to come to soothe the tired, aching body. 

‘T have been hateful and horrid,” sighed the 
weary girl at last, giving up the struggle and 
facing the accusing conscience. “No one will 


246 TABITHA AT IVY HALL 


like me if I behave like that. I promised Mrs. 
Vane to be good and just see what a beginning 
I have made ! A scolding already and I haven’t 
been here a day. Oh, dear! Chrystobel was 
selfish, but maybe if I had been good, she would 
have given up that drawer and the hooks with- 
out any fuss. I acted like a perfect — cat! 
Because she was selfish and — mean, yes, I think 
she was mean — that was no reason for my be- 
ing hateful. Oh, it is such hard work to be 
good! I wonder if it will ever be any easier. 
Carrie doesn’t seem to have any trouble that 
way at all, and her room-mate is a spoiled dar- 
ling, too. If she can put up with Cassandra, 
I ought to be able to deal with Chrystobel. I 
suppose — I — ought to — ^tell her I am sorry. I 
hate to think of doing such a thing, for maybe 
she will be a — cat. Perhaps I needn’t tell her, 
but just explain to Miss Pomeroy how bad I 
feel to think I made such a scene — no, I didn’t 
fight with Miss Pomeroy, and apologizing to 
her won’t make Chrystobel feel any better to- 
ward me. Oh, dear, I suppose I must do it! 
Well, here goes — I’ve got the shivers clear to 
my toe-tips already, thinking of what she may 
say. Chrystobel!” 


TABITHA AT IVY HALL 247 


She spoke the name softly, but the occupant 
of the other bed heard, and slowly turned 
over facing the window, surprised, wondering 
whether or not her ears could have deceived 
her. 

“Chrystobel!’’ 

There was no mistaking that sound. Should 
she answer? Chrystobel, too, had passed a 
very uncomfortable evening, and found bed far 
from agreeable. Away from her mother for 
the first time, she was battling with pangs of 
homesickness as well as with her conscience, for 
she had suddenly come to realize just how sel- 
fish her acts must have seemed not only to the 
queer little girl, who was to share this room 
with her, but also to the white-haired principal, 
whom she wanted to love her. But fear that 
Tabitha would only say something to make 
matters worse held her silent when she heard 
the whispered name from the bed by the 
window. 

“Chrystobel!” 

The voice was not only insistent, but plead- 
ing, and the elder girl lifted herself somewhat 
impatiently on her elbow, as she muttered un- 
graciously, “Well?” 


248 TABITHA AT IVY HALL 


‘T was afraid you would be asleep/’ came the 
relieved reply. Say, Chrystobel, Vm sorry I 
got mad this afternoon. Maybe if I had had 
more patience I could have shown you just how 
selfish you were without all that fuss and 
squabble. Will you forget the hateful things 
I said and be friends with me? You can have 
both big drawers and twenty-one hooks in the 
closet if you want them.” 

Chrystobel gasped, overcome by mingled 
emotions. Surprise, anger, regret in turn 
filled her heart, and for a moment she was silent 
because the lump in her throat choked her. 

Tabitha, misconstruing the deep pause, be- 
gan again anxiously, “I’ve got the worst tem- 
per in seven counties. I reckon it’s my name; 
I have always hated it, but that doesn’t help 
matters any. I am always sorry after I get 
mad like that, but it is awfully hard to say so. 
I never know how to say it so the other person 
will believe me. But I really mean it, Chrys- 
tobel. I am sorry I was so horrid to you. We 
ought to be friends, and then you could help 
me keep from getting mad, and I could help 
you not to be such a pig. Will you, Chrys- 
tobel?” 


TABITHA AT IVY HALL 249 


“Well,” breathed her astounded room-mate, 
“you are the queerest girl I ever saw, and you 
say the oddest things. I — I don’t know what 
to think.” 

“I don’t mean to say odd things. I am 
truly sorry, and I wish you would believe me.” 

The plaintive voice was too much for the 
haughty Chrystobel, and with a quick spring 
she scrambled out of bed and groped her way 
to where Tabitha lay curled under the covers, 
saying with more real feeling than her compan- 
ion had given her credit for, “I do believe you, 
and I am just as sorry as you are for my ac- 
tions — sorrier, for I was to blame for the whole 
fuss. I am a selfish pig, but no one ever dared 
to tell me that before, so I have gone on being 
thoughtless and unkind and horrid. I have no 
brothers or sisters at home to share things with, 
and I have always had my own way until I’ve 
come to expect it from everybody, I am afraid. 
Forgive me, Tabitha, I never knew before how 
really selfish I was.” 

Chrystobel’s arms had encircled Tabitha in 
an impulsive embrace, and before the aston- 
ished girl had recovered her breath sufficiently 
for a reply, there was a quick kiss pressed upon 


250 TABITHA AT IVY HALL 


her lips, and Chrystobel had slipped away in 
the dark to her own bed. 

For a moment Tabitha lay motionless on her 
pillow, almost too surprised for utterance at 
this turn of affairs; then she smiled happily in 
the dark and whispered shyly, ‘T don’t hate 
you, Chrystobel. I didn’t mean all those hate- 
ful things I said to you. I was mad and that’s 
why I spoke that way. I — I — love you.” 

“Then I’m glad,” came the joyful answer 
through the blackness of the room. “I take 
back all the mean things I said about you, too, 
Tabitha. I am sure we are going to be splen- 
did friends.” 

“So am I. Good-night, Chrystobel!” 

“Good-night, Tabitha!” 

A great peace descended upon both hearts, 
and the two girls drifted away to happy 
dreams, their differences forgiven and for- 
gotten. 

Oh, no, they did not become saints on the 
spot; they were only human beings like the 
rest of us, and many and frequent were the girl- 
ish squabbles that marred the serenity of those 
happy school days, but they honestly tried to 
do better, and that is half the battle. Chrys- 


TABITHA AT IVY HALL 251 


tobel was selfish and Tabitha was a pepperpot, 
and neither of those faults is easily overcome, 
but thanks to the common sense of the kindly 
principal and her staff of teachers, the battle 
was not unsuccessfully waged. 

Tabitha soon became a favorite among her 
mates, who were quick to discover the sweet 
spirit under the fierce, hot temper, and quick to 
feel the lonely girfs craving for affection. 
Understanding that her home life had never 
been as glad and joyous as theirs, they one 
and all strove to make the new surround- 
ings bright and beautiful, succeeding so well 
that gradually Tabitha forgot her old griefs 
and vexations, and blossomed into a serene 
loveliness that captivated both teachers and 
mates. 

The name which Bertha had given her the 
day of her arrival clung, and Kitty she became 
to the whole school, — the mascot of the second 
floor. At one time this title would have been 
an added affliction to her over-sensitive nature, 
but Tabitha was growing wise, and was learn- 
ing that people do not care how ugly one’s 
name may be, if the heart is good and beauti- 
ful. True, she had not ceased to mourn be- 


252 TABITHA AT IVY HALL 


cause other girls were blessed with the pretty 
names which had been denied her, but she was 
beginning to understand the sentiment : 
“Laugh, and the world laughs with you. 
Weep, and you weep alone; 

For the poor old earth has to borrow its mirth. 
It has troubles enough of its own.” 


CHAPTER XVI 

MADAME^S ADVICE 

One bright, warm, November day — for such 
days are the usual order in sunny California — 
Tabitha stood at the little window in one end 
of the long corridor, looking disconsolately 
down into the garden, shimmering in its rain- 
washed greenness, and thinking of the ap- 
proaching holidays and her own slender purse. 
The other girls were making such elaborate 
gifts for each other, to say nothing of the beau- 
tiful things laid by for the home folks and 
friends, and she felt keenly the fact that she 
would have so little to offer. To be sure, there 
were few to remember outside the school circle 
of girls and teachers, but she longed as never 
before to do as the others did and have what 
they had. 

“Oh, dear,” she sighed, “it’s hard to be 
pinched all the time! I wish I could have as 
much money to spend as even Mercedes has, 
and that isn’t a great deal, either. Here I 
353 


254 TABITHA AT IVY HALL 


have only five dollars for Christmas, and there 
are about twenty girls, who, I know, are going 
to give me something, besides the other people 
I want to remember — Tom and the Vanes and 
Carrie’s mother and father. They are always 
giving me something beautiful, and I never 
have anything for them but home-made candy. 
There is Aimt Maria, too. I would like to 
send her a little something so she won’t think 
I have forgotten her; and then — Dad — but he 
won’t expect anything or care. I don’t sup- 
pose he will even remember that it is Christ- 
mas. Oh, hum! I wish there wasn’t such a 
a day!” 

“Such a day as what?” asked a soft, sweet 
voice behind her, and an arm crept gently, al- 
most shyly around her waist. 

“Oh, Madame DuBois!” cried the startled 
girl, looking up into the winning brown eyes of 
the little French teacher. “Did you hear what 
I said? I was wishing there was no Christmas 
Day.” 

“No Christmas Day!” echoed the scandal- 
ized woman with charming accent. “All, zat is 
ze Christ’s birthday!” 

“I was very wicked,” murmured Tabitha, 



^‘Oh/’ looking into the winning eyes of the French teacher, 
^‘1 was wishing there was no Christmas Day! ” 


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TABITHA AT IVY HALL 255 


humbly. ‘T didn’t stop to think how we hap- 
pen to have that holiday. I was mourning be- 
cause I have not as much to spend for pretty 
things as the other girls have.” 

“Oh, but zat is very wrong!” protested her 
companion, shaking her head in a disapproving 
fashion. “You Americans sink only of how 
much money you spend for Christmas and if 
your gift to your friend cost as much as ze one 
she give you. Zat isn’t gift! Zat is exchange. 
One should give only from ze happiness of ze 
heart. If ze pocketbook is flat, zen pick a lit- 
tle flower, write a little letter, give a merry 
smile. All true friends like zat better zan silk 
dresses or gold watches. Do you forget one 
of your great poets has said: 

‘Not what we give but what we share. 

For ze gift without ze giver is bare.’ ” 

“I see what you mean, Madame,” said Tabi- 
tha slowly. “Folks think too much about the 
cost of their gifts, instead of the spirit in which 
they are given. But wouldn’t you feel badly 
if you knew that fifteen or twenty girls were 
planning splendid things for you and there 
was only five dollars to buy remembrances for 
all of them, besides the other friends? Cas- 


256 TABITHA AT IVY HALL 


sandra told me yesterday that Bertha Peck is 
embroidering a silk scarf for me, and here I 
haven’t a thing for her!” 

Madame smiled indulgently at the tragic 
tones, and gently shook the slender maid, as 
she answered, “Wie, I understand some how 
you feel, Tabitha; but it isn’t worth fretting 
about. A little handkerchief, a card mav- 
be— ” 

“One can’t get a really nice handkerchief for 
even two bits, and it would take my whole five 
dollars for just the girls alone. I would have 
nothing left for Tom or the rest.” 

The little French woman was silent for a 
moment, and a deep frown wrinkled her usu- 
ally placid brow ; then she impulsively caught 
Tabitha’s brown hands in her own and skipped 
joyfully as if she, too, were a girl in her teens, 
exclaiming excitedly, “I have it — zat what you 
say? You crochet. I have seen you some- 
times when you study and I wonder how you 
count ze stitches and learn, too, but you always 
have your lessons well.” 

Tabitha’s face flushed with pleasure at this 
unexpected praise, and she laughingly replied, 
“Oh, I can’t always. It is just when I am 


TABITHA AT IVY HALL 257 


memorizing something or learning French con- 
jugations. Now with algebra, I have to use 
my hands as well as my brains.” 

“Sly-boots! But you make pretty sings 
with your crochet hook — ze lace on Carrie’s 
collar, n’est pas?” 

“Yes, I made that for her birthday. Mrs. 
Vane taught me how last year in Silver Bow so 
I wouldn’t be so lonely.” 

“It takes only a little time?” 

“Not very long now. I have made so much 
of it I can almost do it in my sleep, and I can 
pick up new patterns from magazines by my- 
self.” 

“Good! I, too, crochet — ^many sings once. 
I show you how if you wish.” 

“Oh, thank you, Madame DuBois! I shall 
be glad to learn.” 

“It is six, seven weeks before Christmas 
Day, and in zat time lots can be done. Come 
now to my room and we plan out zat five dol- 
lars — if you like — spend it on paper.” She 
hurried the amazed girl down the long hall to 
her cozy room and was soon deeply absorbed in 
making out lists and figuring the cost of ma- 
terial. 


258 TABITHA AT IVY HALL 


“There are twenty-one girls I should like in 
particular to remember,’’ said Tabitha, curi- 
ously watching every movement of her com- 
panion. “I wish I had something for each 
scholar. And five people in Silver Bow, and 
Tom in Reno, and — I wish Miss Pomeroy 
didn’t limit us to such a little bit for the teach- 
ers. 

“Ah, but she is wise!” laughed Madame, 
rapidly turning the pages in a fancy-work 
book. “See, here is what I mean. Twenty 
ties like zat take so little time and are so pretty 
and very acceptable. Every girl this day likes 
such sings. One spool of cotton thread, very 
fine, makes four or five, maybe more; a little 
scrap of hnen to mount it on, and voila! a beau- 
tiful little gift that cost much at the store. 
Watch me now, how I do it.” She caught up 
her crochet hook and thread, and deftly, 
swiftly, traced the delicate little pattern that 
Tabitha might see how it was done. 

“That looks so easy,” murmured the girl, 
watching the flying fingers with fascinated 
eyes. “I believe I could do it already.” 

“Yes? But you take the book to be sure. 
The directions are easy. That settles the girls 


TABITHA AT IVY HALL 259 


except maybe the little friend, Carrie. How 
would she like some slippers? I make them 
very pretty and they cost so little ; two or three 
skeins of yarn for one pair and the soles are 
cheap, too.” 

“That would be fine for Carrie — and for 
Chrystobel. Cassandra says she has something 
beautiful for me, but Chrystie threatened to 
give her nothing for Christmas if she told; so 
she has managed to keep it secret so far.” 

“Cassandra has a lively tongue,” laughed 
Madame, “and she finds it hard to control. 
Now for the rest of your friends, how would 
calendars do? You make beautiful water- 
coloring. Miss White shows me her pretty 
work, and always zere is one of your drawings. 
Cardboard is easy to get ; a little bunch of flow- 
ers or some ozer design in colors, maybe a 
picture of yourself, and zat makes a nice gift.” 

“I had thought of pictures at first, but good 
ones cost so much that I couldn’t get enough 
to go around.” 

“Pictures? Photographs, you mean. But 
maybe some friend has a camera and will take 
a — what you call it? — snap-shot? I know such 
a boy. He does excellent work and I am sure 


260 TABITHA AT IVY HALL 


Miss Pomeroy will let you go there some day 
with me. He charges very low. I sink one 
dollar would be all. Zen see! You have still 
one dollar and a half left out of your five dol- 
lars to buy ribbon, tissue paper, Christmas 
cards, postals or what you will, and all your 
friends are planned for.” 

Tabitha stared at the neat list with unbeliev- 
ing eyes, then with a little jump of delight, she 
threw both arms around Madame’s neck, cry- 
ing happily, “Oh, you darling, you witch! I 
have been wondering and puzzling for a week 
to know how I could possibly get thirty-three 
presents out of five dollars, but it looks as easy 
as a, hj c, now. Thank you a thousand times ! 
I am going to begin right away on my gifts, 
so everything will surely be finished in time.” 

“But you must attend to the lessons first,” 
warned the teacher, shaking her finger play- 
fully at the excited girl. 

“Oh, I will, I surely will,” she promised, 
gathering up book and papers. “I am so glad 
this is Saturday, for I can commence work at 
once. All my Monday’s lessons are learned, 
Chrystobel and Cassandra have gone home for 
Sunday, and there is nothing to interfere.” 


TABITHA AT IVY HALL 261 


“Then mind you don’t work too hard, or I 
shall be sorry I helped you stretch your little 
gold mine.” 

“I will be very careful, but I must hurry, 
for there are only seven weeks before Christ- 
mas.” 

With a parting smile she slipped out of the 
door and rushed away to her own room, eager 
to make with her own hands the pretty lace 
Madame had begun for her; and from that 
moment all her leisure time was devoted to 
crocheting ties or painting calendars for her 
loved ones’ Christmas Day. With the first 
gleam of dawn she was up in the morning, 
busy with brush or hook long before the break- 
fast bell called them to the day’s routine; at 
recess and during the noon hour, she was hid- 
den away with Bertha or Carrie in some nook 
of the great gardens, making frantic use of 
every opportunity; and when the lessons were 
learned in the evening, back to back with 
Chrystobel, she toiled with patient fingers, 
sighing with relief as each dainty tie was laid 
in state beside its finished mates in her big hat 
box. 

Madame’s young friend was glad to take 


262 TABITHA AT IVY HALL 


some kodak pictures of the eager girl, the 
prints were splendidly clear-cut, and Tabitha 
was delighted with the result. So when her 
busy brush had painted all the cardboard 
squares in soft colors, and the carefully 
trimmed snapshots were mounted, Tabitha’s 
calendars were really works of art; and her 
heart was filled with happiness over what she 
had achieved. 

Just a week before Christmas she slipped 
the last gift into the hat box and sat down be- 
fore it to gloat over her treasures with loving 
eyes. 

“All done — everything! I didn’t suppose 
I could do it when I began. Now, I shan’t be 
ashamed to receive gifts from the girls. It 
isn’t right to feel that way, I know, but really 
I hated to think of not being able to give them 
something nice when they are so good to me. 
It isn’t that I am exchanging, as Madame 
calls it; for I shall appreciate whatever gifts I 
get — silk dresses, Christmas cards, or just a 
friendly word; but this is the very first time I 
ever made things myself to give away at such 
a time, and I guess it has gone to my head. I 
like to receive presents, but I think it is lots 


TABITHA AT IVY HALL 263 


more fun to give them. I have enjoyed mak- 
ing every single one of those. 

“There are twenty-two ties, nineteen for the 
girls, and one each for Mrs. Vane, Carrie’s 
mother and Aunt Maria; there’s a silk tie for 
Rosslyn McKittrick — I never would have 
thought of using up that bias piece for such a 
thing if I hadn’t seen Jessie making her little 
brother one. I don’t know which I like best, 
Carrie’s blue slippers or Chrystobel’s pink 
ones — ^they are both so dear. But my calen- 
dars are my darlings! When Madame sug- 
gested them, I was afraid they would be aw- 
fully cheap-looking, but Miss White says the 
coloring is the best I ever did, and those 
splendid pictures just finish them. I had no 
idea I was so good-looking. There is one 
apiece for each teacher, one for Tom, one for 
Dr. Vane, and one for Mr. Carson. That 
leaves me three over; and there may be some- 
one I have forgotten in my list, so these will 
probably come in handy yet. And that prying 
Cassandra hasn’t found out about a thing that 
I have made ! 

“Now I must get my hat and coat if I go 
with Madame for the tissue paper. How glad 


264 TABITHA AT IVY HALL 


I am that I can get a pretty postcard for each 
of the other girls! Even then, I will have 
more than half a dollar left. Perhaps I can 
find a piece of linen and make Tom a handker- 
chief or two. I’ll ask — ” 

“Puss, Puss!” called an excited voice in the 
corridor, and an impatient fist pounded loudly 
on the door. Tabitha started nervously, 
dropped the cover down over her treasures and 
pushed the box hurriedly into the closet, call- 
ing cheerily, “Come in, Carrie !” 

“I can’t; you have locked the door!” 

The black-eyed girl flew to turn the key, and 
rosy, excited Carrie burst into the room, cry- 
ing, “See what I got for papa! It just came 
from the store. Miss Pomeroy helped me 
choose it. I wanted to show it to you first. 
Isn’t it splendid? And won’t he like it?” She 
laid a beautifully carved box on the table and 
danced gleefully about the room while Tabitha 
examined the purchase. 

“Well, I should think he would,” she said 
enthusiastically in answer to Carrie’s question. 
“What is it for?” 

“It’s a sort of a writing-desk for him to carry 
around in his grip when he goes away, so he 


TABITHA AT IVY HALL 265 


can write any time he wants to. See the paper, 
business size, letter and note paper. Here is a 
box for stamps, and there is a place for pen 
and pencils. I wanted to get him a fountain 
pen, too, but mamma said she would attend to 
that, to be sure it was a nice one. I can just 
see him now when he opens it. Oh, I wish 
Christmas would hurry! What are you going 
to give your father. Puss?’’ 

Tabitha’s face flushed scarlet, and she mur- 
mured in embarrassment, “I don’t believe he 
cares anything about Christmas. He never 
has observed it since I can remember.” 

“Oh!” said Carrie. “Well, I must take my 
box back and wrap it up. Where are you go- 
ing?” 

“It is nearly time for our walk and Miss 
Pomeroy has promised some of us a tramp to 
town for tissue paper, ribbon, cards and such 
little things that won’t take long to get. Didn’t 
you know? Ask her if you can’t go. I think 
there are only six or seven of us so far. One 
more will only make it the jollier.” 

“I would like to,” answered Carrie wistfully, 
“but this is my hour to practice for the can- 
tata. Bye-bye !” 


266 TABITHA AT IVY HALL 


Carrie whisked across the hall to her room 
and Tabitha, haunted by that careless question, 
descended the stairs to wait for the group of 
shoppers to gather. 

The day was bright and warm, the winter 
rains had washed the dusty foliage clean, and 
it seemed as if spring had already begun in this 
California city; but there was no answering 
note of joy in Tabitha’s heart. Why had Car- 
rie shown her the pretty writing-desk? What 
had prompted her to speak such disquieting 
words? Ought she to send something to the 
stern father who did not care? 

“One should give only from ze happiness of 
ze heart, Madeline.” 

Madame’s gentle voice floated back to Tabi- 
tha, speaking the same sentiment she had 
voiced to the black-haired girl a few weeks be- 
fore. “A gift from a sense of duty is no gift 
at all.” 

“Then,” thought Tabitha, “that settles my 
difficulty. I could give only from a sense of 
duty. I should like to love him, but he won’t 
let me.” 

“But sink how lonely he may be, ze cross old 
uncle you talk about! Doesn’t it make you 


TABITHA AT IVY HALL 267 


sorry?” came another snatch of conversation. 
“Perhaps he loves you more zan you sink. Oh, 
yes, I should get him somesing — a calendar or 
a card or maybe write a letter ; but don’t do it 
because you sink you ought. If he feels zat 
you really want to cheer him, it will make him 
happy even if he is cross.” 

The sunshine grew suddenly brighter to 
Tabitha, her heart grew wonderfully lighter, 
her lips unconsciously hummed a little tune 
and the walk the rest of the way to town was 
beautiful. But the first thing she did when 
Ivy Hall was reached, was to run up to her 
room, select the prettiest of the three left-over 
calendars, wrap it daintily in tissue paper and 
gold cord and address it to her father at Silver 
Bow. Then with a happy sigh she dropped it 
back into the box to await the proper time for 
mailing, and skipped off to tell Madame that 
her Christmas work was all done. 


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CHAPTER XVII 


HOLIDAY PLANS 

“Girls, girls!” cried Jessie Wayne, bursting 
unannounced into Bertha Peck’s room where 
ten or twelve of her mates were feverishly at 
work on Christmas mysteries, anxious to have 
everything complete before the morrow saw 
them scattered in their many homes for their 
holiday vacation. “Just listen to this. Mamma 
is going to give me a party Christmas Eve, and 
there are a hundred invitations sent out. Isn’t 
that gorgeous? The parties mamma gives are 
simply fine; almost everyone we invite comes. 
I wish we lived here in this city so I could have 
all of you. And New Years Day she is going 
to take six of us over to Pasadena in the auto 
to see the Tournament of the Roses and the 
chariot races. I have often been there, we go 
every year, but it is lots more fun with a crowd 
of people your own age. One day we are going 
up Mt. Lowe, and another day if it is warm 
enough she has promised to take us to one of 
269 


270 TABITHA AT IVY HALL 


the beaches for bathing. I just love the ocean. 
Isn’t my vacation going to be dandy?” 

“I should think it is,” exclaimed Chrysto- 
bel. ‘‘That’s what I like — plenty of excite- 
ment. I tried to coax mamma to let me spend 
the holidays with my cousins in San Francisco, 
but she said to wait until next summer when 
she and papa could go, too. I don’t know what 
they are planning for this Christmas, but I ex- 
pect to have a jolly time.” 

“So do I,” piped up the spoiled Cassandra, 
who could not be bribed or forced to stay away 
from these secret sewing bees, though she never 
pretended to do anything but pry. “We are 
going to San Diego to grandma’s house for 
Christmas, and there is to be a real evergreen 
tree and loads of presents. I’m going to get a 
gold watch. I know, ’cause I teased mamma 
until she said she would buy me one.” 

“We have a family reunion at Redlands,” 
said active Julia Moore. “There will be forty 
of us in all. Won’t we have a merry time? I 
have two cousins whose birthdays are in the 
same week with mine, and folks call us the 
triplets, though Jack is a year older than I and 
Fred is a year younger. They are the greatest 


TABITHA AT IVY HALL 271 


teases, always playing jokes on me; so I have 
fixed up these two turkey wishbones to get even 
with them this year. Do you suppose they can 
find anything worse-looking to give me?” She 
held up two grotesque figures of wishbone and 
wax, dressed like Dutch boys in baggy trousers 
and queer caps, and the girls shouted derisively. 

‘Tf only I had seen them in time to plan one 
for Uncle Tim!” sighed mischievous Grace 
Tilton. ‘T owe him a philopena, and that 
would have been a splendid way to pay it.” 

“But it takes only a few minutes to make 
one,” answered Julia. “I will show you how. 
Cousin Minnie cut the pattern for the trous- 
ers.” 

“I haven’t the wishbone, though,” returned 
Grace. “But never mind; Carrie is going 
home with me for Christmas, and we will think 
up something ridiculous.” 

“Why, Carrie!” cried Mercedes. “I 
thought you and Kitty were going home to 
Silver Bow.” 

“That is what we had expected to do, but 
just yesterday I got a letter from mamma tell- 
ing me I might accept Grace’s invitation, be- 
cause papa has to go East right away on busi- 
ness and she is going with him.” 

w 


272 TABITHA AT IVY HALL 


“Then what are you going to do, Kitty?” 

“Stay here at school,” answered Tabitha 
briefly, stitching busily away on Tom’s hand- 
kerchief, trying hard not to betray her keen 
disappointment at this unexpected change of 
plan. 

“Oh, are you?” cried Bertha, dropping a 
dainty apron she was frilling with lace, and 
clapping her hands softly. “I am so glad! I 
was afraid I was to be the only girl left at 
school. I have to spend my vacations here, be- 
cause I could hardly get home to Canada and 
back again before lessons would begin once 
more. Last year at Christmas there were three 
of us left-overs, besides Miss Pomeroy and 
Miss Summers; but during our spring vaca- 
tion I was the only girl in the building, and 
perhaps I wasn’t lonely, even though Miss 
Pomeroy was lovely. She always does every- 
thing she can think of to make the hours pleas- 
ant, and we had some grand visits together.” 

Tabitha’s face had grown visibly brighter 
during this recital, but the shadow of bitter dis- 
appointment still lingered in the somber black 
eyes, for she had counted much on having Car- 
rie to herself for this brief fortnight and it was 


TABITHA AT IVY HALL 273 


hard to give up such fond hopes. Ever since 
boarding school life had begun these two 
bosom friends had seen little of each other, as 
Tabitha had now far outstripped Carrie in her 
classes, and Cassandra skilfully managed to 
monopolize her good-natured, loving little 
room-mate most of their leisure hours. Grace’s 
invitation had included Tabitha, to be sure, 
but there was no money in the little purse for 
railroad fare, and of course it was now too late 
for her father to send her any, even if she had 
dared to ask him. So she stifled back her long- 
ings and tried to look happy as she said saucily, 
“Well, two is company, three is a crowd, 
four in the school-house are not allowed’.” 

“Oh,” cried Cassandra, “you changed 
that — ” 

“Just to fit the occasion, my child,” inter- 
rupted Bertha with a patronizing air which 
usually made the meddling infant grit her 
teeth and hold her tongue. 

But in spite of Tabitha’s efforts to be brave, 
Carrie saw the look in the black eyes and under- 
stood; and Chrystobel, detecting the slight 
quiver in the voice meant to be merry, under- 
stood also; and a sudden silence fell over the 


274 TABITHA AT IVY HALL 


room of busy workers. The waning afternoon 
deepened into dusk, Bertha rose and turned on 
the lights, the girls moved their positions so the 
bright rays would fall to best advantage on 
their work, but for many minutes not a sound 
was heard in the crowded room save the rustle 
of linen and lawn, and the snip, snip of glitter- 
ing scissors. Then the tea-bell pealed out its 
summons, and the toilers sprang to their feet in 
dismay. 

‘‘So late! And my collar isn’t done yet!” 

“I have only the belt to put on my apron.” 

“All but about an inch of hemstitching done 
on this handkerchief.” 

“The initials are a little crooked on this 
glove-case, but I have finished. Thank good- 
ness!” 

Chrystobel said never a word, but gathering 
up her work with unusual haste, she fiew to her 
room, switched on the lights, gave her beauti- 
ful curls a brush or two, jerked her collar over 
a fraction of an inch, and disappeared down 
the stairway before Tabitha had reached the 
door of Bertha’s room. Straight to the princi- 
pal’s office she ran, knocked lightly, and almost 
before she heard the gentle summons from 


TABITHA AT IVY HALL 275 


within, she burst into the room with the breath- 
less question, “Oh, Miss Pomeroy, can I stay 
here at school for the holidays? May I, I 
mean?” 

“Why, my dear,” smiled the white-haired 
lady, “my girls are always welcome here.” 

“But I thought during vacations you let 
only those who had nowhere else to go stay 
here.” 

“That is just because the girls who have 
homes to go to prefer to spend their holidays 
there, Chrystobel. It is unusual for a pupil to 
elect to stay here on such occasions, particu- 
larly at Christmas time. What is the trouble, 
dear? Have your parents — ” 

“Oh, no, it isn’t that. They expect me, but 
can’t I telegraph them that I want to stay 
here? They won’t object. They always let me 
have my own way. Miss Pomeroy.” 

“But still I cannot understand your sudden 
decision, Chrystobel.” 

“It’s on account of Kitty — Tabitha. She 
can’t go home, and now that the Carsons have 
to leave for the East, she can’t spend her vaca- 
tion with Carrie, and she does feel so sorry!” 
“What makes you think that?” asked the 


276 TABITHA AT IVY HALL 


principal with a curious tightening of her 
throat. 

“Just her mouth, and because I know her. 
She laughs and pretends she doesn't mind, but 
I couldn’t help seeing her lips; and she has 
never had the good times I have, and I — I 
thought maybe if I stayed here with her and 
Bertha, it would make them both feel hap- 
pier.” 

INIiss Pomeroy looked down into the eager, 
flushed face and wondered how she had ever 
called Chrystobel selfish ; then she asked, 
“Have you counted the cost? If you stay here 
to make Tabitha’s Christmas happy, she must 
never suspect any regrets you may feel because 
your own plans have been laid aside.” 

“I have thought about all that. Miss Pom- 
eroy. She has been so good and patient with 
me that I should feel terribly mean to go home 
for a jolly vacation and leave her here!” 

“Very well, if you are sure you want to stay, 
you may telegraph your people for permission. 
Living so close to the city, you ought to get a 
reply in the morning before time to start for 
your home, if that is their wish in the matter.” 

“Oh, thank you. Miss Pomeroy!” cried the 


TABITHA AT IVY HALL 277 


girl in genuine gladness. ‘‘Mamma will let me 
stay, I know she will!” And as the second 
summons for the evening meal pealed through 
the building, she danced happily away to her 
place in the dining-room. 

Hardly was the chapel service over when 
Carrie and Grace appeared at the door of the 
principal’s domain, and the flaxen-haired girl 
began hesitatingly, “Miss Pomeroy, do you let 
girls stay here at school during the holidays if 
they can go somewhere else just as well as not?” 

“Yes, my dear. Any of the girls are wel- 
come to stay, though it is seldom one chooses 
to do so if she can possibly go home.” 

“Then may we stay? I had expected to go 
home, and then when Mamma wrote that they 
wouldn’t be in Silver Bow themselves, I ex- 
pected to go with Grace; but Tabitha can’t 
and I don’t want to leave her here alone.” 

“And if neither one of them will spend the 
vacation with me, I would rather stay here, 
too,” said Grace. “I can telegraph to see if 
mamma will let me, but I know she will say 
yes.” 

“Bertha and Chrystobel expect to be here, 
you know,” suggested Miss Pomeroy, watch- 


278 TABITHA AT IVY HALL 


ing to see what effect these words would have 
on the two supplicants. 

“Chrystobel, too?” they cried in unison. 

“Yes, she has just sent a telegram to her 
family.” 

“Then what a nice time we can give Tabi- 
tha!” exclaimed Carrie. 

“She is always doing something for us,” 
added Grace, “and it will be lovely to get even 
with her that way.” 

“Then you still wish to remain here for 
Christmas?” 

“Yes, indeed,” they answered, “if we may.” 

“I shall be glad to have so many of my girl- 
ies with me during the holidays, and I am sure 
Tabitha and Bertha will appreciate every ef- 
fort you make to give them a happy time. 
Good-night, dears.” 

They scurried gleefully away, much de- 
lighted with the principal’s decision, and al- 
ready planning what they might do to fill the 
vacation days for Tabitha. As they pranced 
up the stairway, they met roguish Vera Foss 
hurrying toward the lower floor, and in answer 
to Carrie’s laughing demand, “Where are you 
going, my pretty maid?” she said seriously, 


TABITHA AT IVY HALL 279 


“To ask Miss Pomeroy’s permission to stay 
here over Christmas.” 

“Why?” cried the amazed conspirators in 
one breath. 

“Oh, I just got to thinking how badly I 
would feel if I had to stay here for the holidays 
like Kitty and Bertha must, when everyone 
else is going home to parties and tournaments 
and gay times generally, and I thought it 
would be lots more fun for them if there were 
others here to keep them company. So when 
Aunt Lyda came for me, I asked her about it 
and she said I might stay if Miss Pomeroy 
would let me.” 

“Goody! She will. She said we might. 
When your aunt goes, come up to Grace’s 
room and let’s make our plans right away. We 
will get Chrystobel if she isn’t with Puss.” 

The next morning when the bevy of bright- 
faced, light-hearted girls came to wish their 
teachers and two lone mates a merry Christ- 
mas before scattering for the holiday season, 
the four plotters, Chrystobel, Carrie, Grace 
and Vera, were foremost in the ranks, laughing 
and chattering the gayest of them all, as they 
jerked on coats and strapped up suitcases 
ready for departure. 


280 TABITHA AT IVY HALL 


“Here comes the bus,” called someone. 
“Grace, Carrie, where are you?” 

“Where are the Monrovia girls? Oh, Vera, 
you are wanted.” 

“Chrystie, your turn next. Is this your 
grip? Good-by all! Merry Christmas!” 

With a few final, hasty hugs, the quartette 
sprang down the steps, climbed into the wait- 
ing vehicles, and departed — to all appear- 
ances — amid a great waving of handkerchiefs 
and pennants. 

At length the last good-by had been spoken, 
the last merry girl was gone, four of the teach- 
ers, too, had deserted their posts for holiday 
fun, and as the chug-chug of the last machine 
died away in the distance. Miss Pomeroy 
dropped her arms over the shoulders of the two 
drooping figures on the steps, and said cheerily, 
“And is this all I have left of my big flock? 
Well, w^e are going to have some joyous cele- 
brating this year, I can promise you; but no 
doubt you have some Christmas work you 
would like to complete this morning, so I will 
not detain you now to discuss our plans. Run 
up to your rooms if you wish; we can do our 
talking at luncheon.” 


TABITHA AT IVY HALL 281 


Bertha and Tabitha tried to smile bravely, 
but the tears were too near to permit of words, 
and in silence the lonely duet climbed the wide 
stairway to their floor, each intending to have 
a private little weep all by herself. But, 

“The best laid schemes o’ mice an’ men 
Gang aft a-gley.” 

There was a wild rush of feet in the hallway 
overhead, and a shower of light parcels filled 
the air, pelting the sober figures from right and 
left, as a chorus of merry voices screamed joy- 
ously, “Merry, merry Christmas!” 

“You thought we had gone home, didn’t 
you?” 

“But we haven’t and we aren’t going to! 
Miss Pomeroy said we might stay.” 

“And the other girls left those packages for 
jokes. The real presents are all in the princi- 
pal’s office.” 

“Oh, girls!” gasped Tabitha, with eyes shin- 
ing like diamonds. 

“Oh, girls!” echoed Bertha, her face 
wreathed in her own sunny smile again. 








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CHAFER XVIII 

TABITHA^S CHRISTMAS 

Christmas Day dawned bright and clear and 
with the first peep of dawn Tabitha was out 
of bed, shaking Chrystobel vigorously and 
calling, “Merry Christmas, lazybones! Wake 
up ; it’s day ! The rising bell has rung. Didn’t 
you hear it?” 

“Oh, you are dreaming,” drowsily mur- 
mured the weary girl in the other bed. “This 
is vacation time.” 

“But we have to get up just the same,” 
laughed Tabitha. “I am going to wake Carrie 
and the others.” 

She bounced across the room, flung open the 
door and stopped abruptly, for suspended to 
the transom above her head hung two immense 
tarlatan stockings, stuffed to the very brim 
with bundles of all sorts and sizes. Across the 
hall from Carrie’s transom swung two more 
similar socks, and dangling against Bertha’s 
door was a third set. 


283 


284 TABITHA AT IVY HALL 


Tabitha’s wild shriek of surprise and delight 
brought the other five girls standing in their 
beds, and Carrie chattered anxiously, “Oh, 
what is the matter? Is the building on fire?”, 

“No, indeed. Merry Christmas!” shouted 
the black-eyed girl, tugging at the stocking 
marked with her name. “Open the door and 
see what you find. Santa Claus surely has 
been here while we slept.” 

There was the sound of pattering feet in the 
-three rooms, and Chrystobel, now thoroughly 
awake, reached Tabitha’s side just as the door 
across the hall and the one next to theirs burst 
open and four excited girls tumbled out. 
“Oh-h-h!” came a chorus of long-drawn-out, 
rapturous sighs, as five pair of eager arms 
clasped the bulky socks and jerked them loose. 

“Owl” shrieked Grace. “There is some- 
thing awfully hard in mine. It nearly knocked 
a hole in my head. It’s a handkerchief box, as 
sure as I am alive! Isn’t it a dear? That is 
from Esther. Well, Kitty, what are you 
doing down there?” 

Tabitha, in nightgown and slippers, sat in 
the middle of the floor, her huge stocking up- 
side down in her lap, and gifts scattered all 


TABITHA AT IVY HALL 285 


about her, as with shining eyes and trembling 
hands she unwrapped each package in turn and 
gloated over its contents. 

“A bunch of violets from JMiss Pomeroy — 
she never forgets one of us. There is Bertha’s 
scarf that Cassandra tattled about — thank 
you, Bertha! You must have worked like a 
Trojan on that. I never could embroider silk. 
Here is a lovely handkerchief from Edith, a 
book from June, a calendar from Estelle, a — 
a silk waist from Carrie! You darling! Look 
at this lovely photo of Jessie and Julia, and 
isn’t the frame cute! A book of poems from 
Cassandra — she said her gift ought to make 
me the happiest of all because it would give me 
something new to recite — queer little, dear lit- 
tle midget! A set of Shakespeare from the 
Leonard twins, a bonbon dish from Vera. 
Here is a kiss in return. An apron from 
Grace, three ties, a pair of gloves, chocolates, 
handkerchiefs, — oh, did ever anyone see so 
many pretty things belonging to one person! 
I am perfectly crazy with happiness. Here is 
one weenty package more in the very tiptoe of 
my stocking — from Chrystobel — a ring with a 
real ruby in it. If there were another thing to 


286 TABITHA AT IVY HALL 


open, I should be bawling in earnest. That is 
the first ring I ever owned, girls — ” 

“Oh, there goes the first bell for breakfast,” 
interrupted Bertha, whisking up her stocking 
full of packages. “Ten minutes to dress in! 
Run, scuttle, hustle! We mustn’t be late 
‘On Christmas morn, on Christmas morn’.” 
She vanished abruptly, humming the beauti- 
ful carol; and three of her companions, follow- 
ing her example, swept up their numerous 
packages and flew away to dress. 

Oh, that was a merry Christmas indeed for 
Tabitha! So bewildered, so delighted, so 
happy was she, that teachers and scholars were 
kept in a perfect gale of laughter during the 
breakfast hour, for the spirit of the day was 
upon her, the love of her new friends, mani- 
fested even in this material way, had touched 
her more deeply than anyone could guess, and 
the effervescent gladness in her heart had to 
bubble over. So they lingered long over the 
breakfast table, loath to bring to a close such a 
happy hour ; but at length Miss Pomeroy rose, 
and smiling down into the expectant faces of 
her six holiday charges, she said, 

“I think the first thing on our morning’s pro- 


TABITHA AT IVY HALL 287 


gram is a long walk, say to the park, and back. 
It is such a glorious day we mustn’t waste a 
moment of it, and we have all laughed so much 
we certainly need some exercise. Miss Sum- 
mers looks positively worn out with mirth. By 
the time we get back, the postman and express- 
man may have visited us again, and I am sure 
the minutes will pass more quickly for each of 
us impatient children if we are busy doing 
something. My box from home isn’t here yet, 
and I am as eager as you are to see what my 
nieces and nephews have sent me.” 

“A walk is just what I need to work off my 
surplus energy,” declared Tabitha enthusiastic- 
ally. “May we take some crackers to feed the 
swans?” 

“And oh, may I take my kodak, my spandy 
new Christmas kodak, for some pictures?” 
asked Grace eagerly. “I will snap you the 
very first one if you will say yes.” 

“That is quite an inducement,” laughed Miss 
Pomeroy. “Of course you may take all the 
crackers you wish and as many kodaks as you 
possess.” 

So thus armed, a merry eight left Ivy Hall 
a few moments later and tramped gayly away 
to the park. 


288 TABITHA AT IVY HALL 


Upon their return, as the principal had pre- 
dicted, they found the reception hall table 
loaded down with letters and parcels from the 
mail, while several express packages lay piled 
in a heap on the floor. 

“Oh, Miss Pomeroy,” shouted Carrie, 
reaching the bundles first and eagerly scanning 
the addresses. “Here is yours all right, and it 
is heavy as lead. This one is addressed to Grace ; 
here is mine from Grandma; that is for Bertha; 
the big box is Pussy’s, and so is this little fel- 
low, and the other box is addressed to you and 
me together from papa. Here’s a heap of let- 
ters. You can distribute them, Vera; I am too 
excited. Where is the hammer?” 

“Not so fast, not so fast!” laughed Miss 
Pomeroy. “John will open these boxes and 
cany them up to your rooms where you can 
unpack them all by yourselves. Take your 
mail and scamper!” She shooed the capering 
girls up the wide stairway, where they were 
followed very shortly by the smiling John, 
bearing their new cargo of gifts. 

“Oh, John, hurry, hurry!” coaxed Carrie, 
skipping about in a fever of impatience. “I 
can’t wait. Who is yours from. Puss? Tom?” 


TABITHA AT IVY HALL 289 


“No; it isn’t his writing, anyway. There is 
a little package from him and a letter — but — 
the big box is — from Reno, too.” 

“Why don’t you open it and see who sent 
it?” asked Chrystobel, busy herself with a big 
home box. 

“I will as soon as I investigate the things 
Mrs. Vane sent me. Aren’t they pretty? A 
glove box with two pair of gloves in it. The 
hair-ribbons are from Mrs. McKittrick; but 
this package, I can’t make out where it came 
from, either. It’s a kodak! Grace, a kodak 
like yours!” 

“You will need a detective,” said Grace, 
dropping her own treasures to examine the 
mysterious packages of her companion. 
“What does the tag say?” 

“Just, ‘A brand from the burning’. Isn’t 
that queer?” 

Carrie paused in her excited unpacking of 
goodies from home, studied the little card for a 
moment and then said, “What will you bet 
that isn’t from the hermit?” 

“Why didn’t I think of that before?” mur- 
mured Tabitha, dropping back on the floor, 
suddenly lost in thought. 


290 TABITHA AT IVY HALL 


“Well, Kitty, if you aren’t the craziest!” 
exclaimed Vera at length. “Here you sit 
mooning over that, camera when you haven’t 
opened your brother’s packages, or that big 
box I am dying to see, or even looked at the 
things Carrie has dumped into your lap from 
her folks.” 

Tabitha roused with a start and immediately 
tore off the coverings of the second mysterious 
box, saying with a smile, “I am keeping 
best for dessert. I like to guess at what is in- 
side each parcel before I open it. Oh, what a 
pretty hat!” 

“Isn’t it a darling! And look at that pretty 
dress goods ! That is all the rage now.” 

“Chrystie, see Kitty’s new shoes. Aren’t 
they fine?” 

“A whole outfit,” murmured Grace, half en- 
viously. 

“Yes, and here is an envelope. Puss,” added 
Carrie. “That ought to tell who sent it.” 

Tabitha mechanically broke the seal of the 
envelope bearing her name in the same writing 
as that on the outside of the box, and a twenty 
dollar bill dropped into her lap. “That is all 
there is in it,” she said, shaking the paper 


TABITHA AT IVY HALL 291 


again. “No, it isn’t. Here is a little scrap 
which reads, ‘For dressmaker’s bills’. Now 
isn’t that provoking!” 

“Provoking!” echoed Chrystobel. “I should 
call it luck!” 

“Oh, I didn’t mean the money and things. 
Those are splendid. But isn’t it a shame not 
to know where they came from?” 

“Why, didn’t your brother send them?’’ 
asked Bertha in surprise, for she had been so 
deeply engrossed with her own gifts that only 
snatches of her companions’ conversation had 
reached her. 

“No, that isn’t a bit like his writing, you see; 
and besides, he couldn’t afford such things.” 

“Maybe Tom’s letter tells,” Carrie ventured. 
“Why don’t you read it and see?” 

“I had forgotten,” laughed Tabitha, looking 
foolish, and hastily tearing open the letter in 
her lap. Then the rosy color in her cheeks paled, 
her eyes grew big with amazement, and her 
breath came in quick gasps. “Dad sent them,” 
was all she said, and as if doubting the truth of 
her own statement, she read again the last 
paragraph of the busy brother’s brief note ; 

''This is a poor apology for a letter, Puss, 


292 TABITHA AT IVY HALL 


but if I get it off in this next mail I haven’t 
time for anything lengthy. I suppose by this 
time you have received the book I mailed you 
yesterday, and I hope the hig surprise arrives 
in season to help you enjoy Christmas Day. 
What do you think ! Dad stopped at Reno on 
his way back from another trip East, and he 
called on me to go shopping with him this 
morning. He himself selected the dress, but 
deferred to my notions in regard to the other 
frills, so if they don’t suit, blame me. I no- 
ticed that most of the girls in Reno were wear- 
ing those fuzzy hats, so at my suggestion Dad 
got one to match your dress. I thought you 
would prefer a brown suit, but he wanted blue, 
and blue it is. I showed him around town and 
took him through the college buildings, and 
when he was gone I found fifty dollars in 
greenbacks on my dresser — my Christmas gift 
from him.” 

Tabitha slowly folded the paper, dropped it 
down into the box with its precious gifts, and 
lifting her shining eyes to the faces of her curi- 
ous mates, she whispered softly, ‘T think I am 
perfectly happy!” 

“And so are we,” cried Chrystobel impul- 


TABITHA AT IVY HALL 293 


sively. “This has been the loveliest Christmas 
vacation I can remember. I wouldn’t have 
missed staying here for anything.” 

“Nor I !” echoed Grace and Vera in the same 
breath, while Carrie and Bertha smiled their 
happiness. 

Then came the grand dinner, and after that 
the games. They danced, they sang, they 
played everything they could think of, they 
messed in the kitchen, bribing the cook to sur- 
render her domains to them for a candy pull, 
they inveigled the stately principal and shy 
Miss Summers into their romps, and how they 
did enjoy every minute of the gala day! But 
like all other days, it came to an end at last, and 
as the laughing group of weary merrymakers 
climbed the wide stairway at the bedtime hour, 
Carrie, who had lingered a moment behind the 
others in the hall below, bounded up the steps, 
calling excitedly, “Oh, girls, Miss Pomerojr 
says we don’t have to sleep in our own rooms 
tonight, but can pair off any way we want to, 
and sleep wherever we choose. Isn’t that great 
fun? Whom will you take. Puss?” 

Tabitha stopped abruptly on the stairs. “Oh, 
1 can have Carrie all to myself tonight,” she 


294 TABITHA AT IVY HALL 


thought to herself, but as she opened her lips 
to speak, she saw Chrystobel’s eyes fixed wist- 
fully upon her own, and suddenly there rose 
before her a vision of her room-mate’s self- 
sacrifice in electing to spend the holidays at 
school when she knew what pleasures would 
have been hers at her own beautiful home. 
She hesitated, looked at Carrie’s eager face, 
read the longing in Bertha’s eyes, saw its re- 
flection in Grace and Vera, and answered, ‘T 
choose all of you. What are you going to do 
about it?” 

“Draw lots, you dear little Christmas 
queen!” cried Bertha promptly. “You are 
the most popular girl in school, Kitty Catt. 
Just see how we fight over you! Here are 
some slips of paper from our guessing game. 
Take your turn. The two longest, the two 
middle and the two shortest are mates.” 

There on the stairs they drew their fate — 
Tabitha and Chrystobel, Grace and Bertha, 
Carrie and . Vera. Then with a merry laugh 
over the result, they linked arms and marched 
up to bed, with one exception a little disap- 
pointed, perhaps, but happy nevertheless. 

The lights went out, five pair of sleepy eyes 


TABITHA AT IVY HALL 295 


closed in slumber, the great city grew still, but 
Tabitha lay awake in her narrow bed looking 
up into the starlit sky with bright, sparkling, 
happy eyes which held no trace of sorrow or 
longing, as she whispered reverently: 

“O little town of Bethlehem, 

How still we see thee lie! 

Above thy deep and dreamless sleep 
The silent hours go by.” 

She thought of all the joys the day had 
brought her, such unexpected pleasures that it 
seemed as if her heart would burst with glad- 
ness; she thought of the girls who had done so 
much to give her this beautiful holiday; she 
thought of the scene on the stairs, and of Ber- 
tha’s words, which, without a particle of conceit, 
she felt were the truth; she thought of Tom 
away at college, and wondered if his holiday 
had been as delightful as hers; she thought of 
the friends at Silver Bow, of Aunt Maria in 
the East, of the stern father keeping lonely 
vigil on the desert, and here her thoughts lin- 
gered. Had he received the calendar she sent 
him, and was he glad? What had prompted 
him to buy her the lovely gifts the express box 


296 TABITHA AT IVY HALL 


had contained? Was he, after all, growing to 
be like jolly Mr. Carson? His remembrance 
had been the crowning touch of the day. How 
could she ever thank him? An idea suddenly 
popped into her mind as if in answer to her 
question, but she frowned at it, shook her head, 
protested that she could never do such a thing, 
and then — she did it. 

Creeping carefully, noiselessly out of bed, 
she threw a kimono over her nightgown, turned 
on the electric light, drew out writing materials 
and began her first letter to the father whom 
she did not know or understand. 

“Dear Father,” she wrote, “I take my pen 
in hand to try to express in a feeble measure 
my deep and sincere gratitude for the many 
beautiful gifts you have sent me — 

“Oh, rats!” The pen stopped its deliberate 
movements, the paper was roughly crumpled 
and flung into the waste basket. “That would 
make him sick with disgust. What in the 
world shall I say? 

“Dear Father, — The Christmas box arrived 
this morning and its contents are greatly ap- 
preciated, I can assure you . How am I ever to 
thank you enough ! — 


TABITHA AT IVY HALL 297 


“Certainly not by such a stilted scribble as 
that. Sounds as if I might be addressing the 
president of the Associated Charities. Oh, 
dear, it is such a piece of work to write to one’s 
father! Carrie never has half the fuss; but 
then I don’t suppose I would either if Dad was 
like ]Mr. Carson — or Tom. That’s it. I will 
just pretend I am writing to Tom; I can say 
anything to him. Here goes 1 

“Dear Dad, — The things arrived this morn- 
ing, and they are — 

“Shall I say ‘bully’? Tom would, but that 
is a boy’s word, and it is slang besides. Miss 
Pomeroy says a lady doesn’t use slang. I will 
use ‘great’. No, that isn’t much better. Well, 
‘splendid’ will do.” 

The busy pen went on scratching until the 
page was filled, then a second, a third, and still 
she had not finished. The clock struck mid- 
night, then one; and with a flourish, Tabitha 
wrote at the bottom of the tenth closely scrib- 
bled page, “With love, Tabitha,” sighed with 
weary satisfaction, folded the sheets neatly, 
and slipped them into an envelope just as 
Chrystobel’s eyes opened and the surprised 
girl inquired sleepily, “Whatever are you do- 
ing, Kitty, up at this time of night?” 


298 TABITHA AT IVY HALL 


“Writing a letter.” 

“Couldn’t you wait until morning?” 

“No, dear, I have waited too long already,” 
answered Tabitha, turning out the light and 
scrambling back into bed. “I had to tell him 
how good everyone is to me, and how good he 
is, too.” 


CHAPTER XIX 
A strike! 

The weeks vanished all too quickly to suit 
the black-eyed maid from the desert, and she 
often found herself wondering where the time 
went to, for before she realized it, winter had 
slipped away and spring was nearty gone. 
Now May was half over, and in another month 
school would be closed for the summer. Carrie 
was to spend her vacation on the Oregon farm 
with her grandmother, and Tabitha must re- 
turn to the desert alone. She sat swinging idly 
under the pepper trees, her Latin grammar on 
her knees, but with eyes staring off across the 
smooth lawn and beautiful shrubbery, think- 
ing mournfully of the long, hot weeks on the 
burning desert before September would come 
again. 

‘T have hardly had a chance to say a word 
to Carrie all this year, and now after counting 
on three months alone with her in Silver Bow, 
she is going away for her vacation. That is 


800 TABITHA AT IVY HALL 


always the way things happen with me. Some 
people have everything and others nothing.” 
Half unconsciously she began to hum the tune 
Mrs. Vane had composed for The Discon- 
tented Buttercup; then realizing what she was 
singing, she laughed. 

“Now aren’t you ashamed of yourself, Tab- 
itha Catt?” she exclaimed aloud. “When you 
have the chance to go to boarding school and 
get an education, and make so many beautiful 
friendships and have everything so perfectly 
lovely, here you are envying Carrie because 
she is going to her grandmother’s for vacation. 
She isn’t well, and it wouldn’t be good for her 
to go back to the desert for the hot summer 
months. Besides, you promised to be good and 
not to envy people any more. You are a dis- 
contented buttercup. 

‘Look bravely up into the sky. 

And be content wtth knowing 
That God wished for a buttercup 
J ust here, where you are growing.* ** 

“What’s that about a buttercup?” asked a 
merry voice behind her, so unexpectedly that 
Tabitha nearly fell out of the hammock. So 


TABITHA AT IVY HALL 801 


intent had she been upon her own thoughts that 
she had not heard the tiptoeing footsteps on the 
soft grass, and was startled when Carrie 
plumped down beside her, and three or four 
other girls ranged themselves in comfortable 
positions in the fresh clover at their feet. 

“How you frightened me!” cried the ab- 
sorbed songstress, moving over to give Carrie 
more room. “Where have you been? You 
weren’t in your rooms when I came down, so I 
slipped out here to study.” 

“About buttercups?” teased Bertha, tickling 
her throat with a long grass. “If you had gone 
up to the third floor you would have found us 
all in Hattie’s room, admiring the watch she 
just got for her birthday. Have you seen it?” 

“No, I was just finishing a letter when she 
called us, arid by the time I was ready to go, 
you had all disappeared. I forgot she had 
changed her room.” 

“Oh,” cried Carrie abruptly, “here is a letter 
for you! We stopped at your room as we 
came down and you weren’t in, so I brought it 
along. I got one from papa, too, and what do 
you think? There has been a strike on the 
Tom Cat!” 


302 TABITHA AT IVY HALL 


A burst of laughter from the girls on the 
grass greeted this remark, and even Tabitha 
joined in, though the unusual piece of news 
made her heart beat fast and her eyes glow 
with an eagerness she could not suppress. 

“When — how big — ” she began, but Cassan- 
dra interrupted with the puzzled question, 
“What did they strike the tomcat for and who 
did it?” 

“The Tom Cat is the name of a claim Kit- 
ty’s father ovms, and when there is a strike on 
a mining claim, it means that gold or silver has 
been found,” explained Carrie patiently. 
“Silver Bow is a silver mining camp, but the 
Cat Group is about thirty miles from there and 
it has gold on it. Papa says the vein they have 
uncovered is very rich and promises to be a 
big one. They have offered your father a for- 
tune for just that one claim, but he won’t sell. 
He will be a rich man now, Puss. Aren’t you 
glad?” 

Tabitha sat in a daze, hardly daring to be- 
lieve her ears. Could it be after all these years 
her father was to find wealth again, or was it 
all a dream? 

“Well, you are the queerest girl!” declared 


TABITHA AT IVY HALL 303 


Chrystobel, who was watching her curiously. 
“If anyone had told me my father had found 
a gold mine, I should jump up and down and 
shout, and then write for some more money 
right away. You can have everything you 
want now, can’t you?” 

Chrystobel had secretly pitied Tabitha be- 
cause her monthly allowance of pocket money 
was so small, and she did not understand how 
anyone could receive the good news with such 
a calmly disinterested air. But Tabitha was 
not disinterested in the least. She was simply 
too busy with her thoughts to notice that her 
companions evidently expected some demon- 
stration on her part in view of the astonishing 
news. Carrie was the only one who under- 
stood, and she explained, 

“Kitty is so surprised she doesn’t know what 
to say, do you. Puss? Better open your letter 
and see what they write you about it. Is it 
from Mrs. Vane?” 

Tabitha’s letter had remained unnoticed in 
her lap where Carrie had tossed it, but now she 
lifted it, and inspected the envelope before re- 
plying, “No, it is from Tom. Why — I — I — 
think I — won’t read it just now.” 


304 TABITHA AT IVY HALL 


Her flushed face had paled, and she caught 
her breath sharply, for the letter was post- 
marked Silver Bow instead of Reno ; but with- 
out further comment she slipped it into her 
Latin Book and joined in the gay chatter with 
her companions, a secret fear tugging at her 
heart. 

Sometime later, after successfully eluding 
the laughing group, she stole away to her room, 
locked the door, and tore open the envelope 
with hands that trembled so violently she could 
scarcely control them, whispering to herself, 
“What can Tom be doing at home? College 
doesn’t close for a month yet. I wonder if his 
money is all gone, and he can’t finish the term. 
Or has Dad sent for him to help out in the 
mine? No, he wouldn’t do that, surely.” 

She spread the rattling paper out on the 
table, and with difficulty spelled out the scrawl 
written with pencil and evidently in much 
haste. The message was brief : 

Dear Puss: — I suppose you have already 
heard the good news of the strike on Dad’s 
claims. I meant to have written you about it 
before, but have been too busy. The vein is 
larger than at first appeared, and quite rich; 


TABITHA AT IVY HALL 305 


but of course we can’t tell yet whether it is 
more than a pocket. We think it is a sure- 
enough vein, however. 

In timbering a shaft which threatened to 
cave in, Dad was hurt, and they sent for me. 
We have him at the house, for he refused to 
be taken to the Miners’ Hospital. I am glad 
it happened so near the end of the college year. 
If he gets along all right, I can take the exam- 
inations I must miss now in September, and go 
along with the work of the class next year. 
When will your school be out? I don’t think 
you have ever said. I suppose you are busy 
now getting ready for examinations — or don’t 
you have such things there? Don’t study too 
hard. Puss, and don’t be alarmed about Dad. 

With love, Tom. 

The letter fluttered unheeded to the floor, 
and Tabitha, having read anxiety between the 
lines, sat in a brown study. 

Dad hurt, Tom at home. Aunt Maria in the 
East! She was only a little girl, but she could 
help a great deal around the house, and 
maybe — maybe she could be of assistance in 
the sick-room. She shuddered at this thought, 
for fear of her father was still strong in her 


306 TABITHA AT IVY HALL 


heart. But she could not shirk her duty; she 
must go home. She gathered up the letter, 
stole out of the room and down to the princi- 
pal’s office, where she found Miss Pomeroy 
still at work at her desk. 

“What is it, dear?” asked the busy woman, 
smiling up from her papers at the sober yet 
determined black eyes. 

“I am going home,” answered the girl, lay- 
ing Tom’s message on the desk and waiting for 
it to be read. 

When Miss Pomeroy had finished, she 
turned to the child at her side, and slipping 
her arm about the slight figure, drew her close, 
saying, “You think they need you, dear? He 
doesn’t say anything about wanting you to 
come.” 

“Oh, Tom wouldn’t ask me to come, no mat- 
ter how much he might want me. But there is 
no one at home in Silver Bow to take care of 
Dad, except Tom, and men don’t know much 
about nursing sick folks. I ought to go.” 

“I think your decision is the right one, Tabi- 
tha,” said the sweet voice after a long pause. 
“I don’t like to see you go, but I am glad for 
your sake that school is so nearly done that you 


TABITHA AT IVY HALL 307 


will lose only a few weeks. That can easily be 
made up during the summer. Your teachers 
will tell you how much further to study. I am 
so sorry, little girl, that this has happened 1 I 
will do anything in my power to help you, and 
would urge you to stay and finish the term, 
only that I would not want to keep you when 
you feel that you may be needed there. When 
do you want to go ?” 

“Tonight,” was the prompt reply, for 
way Miss Pomeroy’s words gave her added 
courage in her hard decision, and she wanted to 
be gone before she had a chance to repent. 
“Don’t tell the girls. It is hard to have to 
leave just now when the year is so nearly done, 
though if I must go, I am glad I shall miss 
only four weeks more of school. But I really 
can’t say good-by to anyone. It has been so 
lovely here. Miss Pomero}^ !” 

“Dear little Tabitha,” murmured the woman 
tenderly. “It has been lovely to have you with 
us, too, and I shall look forward to next au- 
tumn to bring back our precious girl who is 
not only learning life’s great lessons herself, 
but is also teaching us the beauty of living. Go 
now to your packing. I will send Miss Sum- 


308 TABITHA AT IVY HALL 


mers to help you, and will myself attend to 
your ticket. As soon as the trunk is ready, 
John will take it to the depot and have it 
checked. Keep a brave heart under the little 
jacket, dear, and remember the One who is 
everywhere.” 

So a few hours later she was helped aboard 
the train by the dusky porter, and was whirled 
away into the darkness of the night toward 
home, cheered but anxious. 


» - t 


CHAPTER XX 


A HAPPY HOME 

Unknown to Tabitha, Miss Pomeroy had 
telegraphed her coming, and Tom was there to 
meet her at the station when the cars slowed 
down at the forsaken-looking desert town. She 
looked at his white, haggard face and heavy 
eyes, and her heart stood still. “Oh, Tom, he 
isn’t—” 

“No, dear, not that. He is better this morn- 
ing, the doctor says; but he is pretty badly 
hurt. I am glad you have come, though we 
didn’t think it was necessary to send for you.” 

That was all they said until the weather- 
beaten cottage was reached. Then just as 
Tabitha opened the screen to enter the stifling 
kitchen, Tom spoke: 

“He is in your room. He insisted upon be- 
ing put there with the bed drawn up by the 
window. They probably won’t let you see him 
yet, but there is a heap of things to be done that 
I haven’t the slightest notion about. Puss. I 

809 


310 TABITHA AT IVY HALL 


can sweep and dust and make beds, and even 
cook potatoes and boil cofF ee, but how in crea- 
tion do you make broths that a sick man will 
eat? And where can a fellow get cool water 
this kind of weather with no ice in town? The 
ice-plant burned last week.” 

Tabitha’s anxiety lifted for the moment, and 
laying aside her dainty traveling dress, she 
donned a big apron and fell to work setting the 
little house to rights. Those were hard days 
that followed, and more than once the burden 
seemed almost too great for the slender shoul- 
ders. Two miners were hurt at the Silver Le- 
gion, and the nurse was called away to care for 
them at the hospital. The hot winds descended 
suddenly upon the desert and Silver Bow 
writhed under the fierce glare of the blazing 
sun. All who could get away left the stifling 
town for the cool breath of the seashore, and 
no help could be found for the girl working so 
bravely in the lonely little cottage, taking the 
place of nurse and housekeeper and facing a 
situation before which many a stouter heart 
would have quailed. Tom did his best, but the 
sick man became possessed of a whim that no 
one should wait upon him but poor, tired Tabi- 


TABITHA AT IVY HALL 311 


tha, and day and night found her ministering 
to him in the sweltering heat that seemed fairly 
to cook town and people. 

Dr. Vane’s face grew very grave as he 
watched the struggle, and one day he said to 
Tom as he was leaving on his other calls, ‘Ts it 
possible for your aunt to come out here again?” 

‘T am afraid not, sir,” was the discouraged 
answer. “She is just recovering from a severe 
siege of fever herself.” 

The doctor shook his head. “I ought to have 
sent your father to Los Angeles the minute I 
was called to attend him; but he was so set 
against it that I didn’t insist, and now — ” 

“Is there any danger?” 

“If this heat would let up a little, I think 
there would be no doubt but that we could pull 
him through. But — Tabitha ought to have 
some help for her own sake.” 

Poor Tom ! He could see that the little sis- 
ter was weakening, and he was doing all in his 
power to lighten her load, but he could not help 
her in her ceaseless watching which was telling 
so fearfully on her strength. In an agony of 
anguish and despair he slipped out to the back 
steps and sat heavily dovm in the shade of the 


312 TABITHA AT IVY HALL 


house, dropping his hot head on his arms and 
two stinging tears coursing down his cheeks. 

“I beg your pardon, but isn’t this where Mr. 
Catt lives?” 

The voice spoke directly at his elbow, and 
Tom, so much absorbed in his unhappy 
thoughts that he had not heard the approach- 
ing footsteps, looked up in surprise to see a 
tall, well-dressed, refined-looking stranger on 
the lower step. 

‘‘Yes, sir.” 

“May I see him?” 

“He is very sick — ^hurt — and doesn’t know 
anyone. We can’t allow folks to see him.” 

“I understood that he was seriously injured 
and that you needed someone to help care for 
him. I—” 

“We are in need of help,” Tom interrupted; 
“but he won’t let anyone wait on him but my 
sister.” 

“He will me.” The man spoke with such 
confidence that again Tom looked his surprise. 
“The little girl is all tired out. Take me to 
your father. Oh, it is all right! I have Dr. 
Vane’s sanction. Besides — well, I may as well 
tell you now. I am the ‘hermit of the hills’ 


TABITHA AT IVY HALL 313 


whom Tabitha saved from burning to death 
more than a year ago. I was your father’s 
partner once and his dearest friend; but I 
proved false to my trust. I cheated him out 
of his share in some valuable property — 
wrecked his whole life. Take me to him and 
don’t fear the consequences.” 

Tom rose quickly. “Come inside. Tabi- 
tha is with him now.” 

He led the unexpected guest to the little 
room where the sick man lay tossing and mut- 
tering in the delirium of fever. 

“Why didn’t you put ice in that water?” he 
was saying querulously. “If you are bound to 
feed me boiled water, I want it cold.” 

Patient little Tabitha sighed wearily and 
turned toward the kitchen with the rejected 
glass on the tray, just as the hermit paused on 
the threshold. 

“Here is a glass of ice-water, Lynne,” said 
the stranger, taking the tumbler from the girl’s 
hand. “Drink this and go to sleep.” 

“Why, hello. Decker!” exclaimed the pa- 
tient, with a gleam of intelligence lighting his 
face for the moment. “How did you come 
here? Say, that water is fine!” 


314 TABITHA AT IVY HALL 


Dropping back among the pillows, the ex- 
hausted man slept; and Tabitha, relieved of 
her responsibility, crept away to hold a quiet 
jubilation with Tom before she, too, fell asleep, 
worn out by her tireless vigil. 

Meanwhile the stranger busied himself with 
the neglected housework, and soon the cottage 
took on a comfortable appearance again; 
Tom’s spirits began to rise and hope to sing in 
his discouraged heart once more. Perhaps 
things were not as bad as they had seemed after 
all. At evening the busy doctor drove up 
again, and w^as rejoiced to find both patient and 
nurse still sleeping. 

“There is a big storm brewing up in the 
mountains,” he announced jubilantly, “and we 
ought to have it a bit cooler here in a few hours. 
Let them sleep as long as they will; both need 
it. Keep up your courage, Tom; Simmons is 
a jewel and knows just what to do.” He was 
gone again, leaving Tom standing on the steps 
ill the blackness of the night, singing in his 
heart a hymn of thanksgiving. 

The storm broke at length with terrible fury, 
and all night the heavy thunder crashed from 
peak to peak as if threatening total destruction 


TABITHA AT IVY HALL 315 


to everything on the desert below; but when the 
hurricane had spent its fury, the fearful heat 
was broken, and the whole world awoke re- 
freshed from its bath. In the sweet coolness 
of the early dawn, Mr. Catt opened his eyes to 
consciousness for the first time since the day 
of the accident, and his gaze fell upon the face 
of his strange nurse sitting beside his bed. 

“Decker Simmons!'’ he exclaimed in a weak, 
incredulous voice. 

“Yes, Lynne. I have come back to face the 
music, but I have brought with me every cent 
of your money and interest. Can you forgive 
the great wrong I have done you?" His 
scarred face worked pathetically, and he 
stretched out his hands somewhat hesitatingly, 
with entreaty in his whole bearing. 

The sick man looked steadily at him for a 
long moment, then clasped the proffered hand 
weakly, and murmured, “I forgive!" 

A deep silence fell over the room; then after 
a few moments of thought too sacred for 
w^ords, the invalid asked faintly, “Have you 
told Thomas and Tabitha?" 

“Yes." 

He sighed contentedly, and still holding 


316 TABITHA AT IVY HALL 


tightly to the hermit’s hand, drifted away into 
refreshing, health-giving slumber. 

So it happened that a few days later when 
strength was flowing back into the injured 
man’s veins, he called his children to him. They 
went with something like trepidation in their 
hearts; but one look into the white face on the 
pillow told them that this was not the same 
man whom they had known and feared all their 
lives. It may have been the restored confi- 
dence in his friend, it may have been that the 
fever had burned out the austerity and selfish- 
ness of his heart and brought the real fatherly 
tenderness to the surface. He mutely held out 
a thin hand to each, and they awkwardly gave 
him theirs, not knowing what to say and sitting 
in silent embarrassment on either side of the 
bed, waiting for him to speak. At last he laid 
Tabitha’s hand on the counterpane, and fum- 
bling beneath his pillow, drew forth a bright 
gold piece, which he held out to her, smiling 
sadly at the surprise in her face. 

“What is this?” she found voice to ask. 

“Long ago I punished you severely — ^too se- 
verely — and you called me a beast. I think 
that was the first time I ever recognized how 


TABITHA AT IVY HALL 317 


thoroughly beastly I was. I — I wasn’t man 
enough to tell you so, nor to admit»how sorry I 
was for my severity ; so after you were asleep, I 
put this in your hand, thinking it might — make 
up for my harshness. I suppose it dropped to 
the floor during the night and rolled into that 
wide crack in the corner where the bed used to 
stand. I saw the glint of it this morning when 
a sunbeam chanced to fall upon it, and it 
brought back the memory of that other day. 
Tabitha, I am sorry. Is it too late to forgive 
me now?” 

Tom surreptitiously drew his free hand 
across his eyes; and Tabitha, almost too sur- 
prised for reply, squeezed her father’s arm in a 
gentle caress, as she whispered chokingly, ‘T 
forgave that long ago. It did seem too great 
a punishment then, but it taught me a lesson I 
have never forgotten.” 

“Poor little daughter! What a selfish brute 
I have been! And I might have made you so 
happy!” 

“Don’t, Dad!” she pleaded. “I — I — you 
have made me happy now! The rest doesn’t 
count !” 

He smiled tenderly into the soft black eyes, 


318 TABITHA AT IVY HALL 


as he drew her closer to him and said wistfully, 
“I wish the rest didn’t count, children; but the 
fact still remains that I have not done right by 
my boy and girl. I am sorry, and when I get 
up from this bed, I mean to be a better man. 

“Decker has come back, we are going into 
partnership again and work those claims for all 
there is in them. Tom shall finish college and 
Tabitha shall go back to boarding school or 
wherever she likes. There is money enough 
for whatever you want, and it is all yours. A 
man with children like mine is graciously 
blessed. I have been a fool and wasted many 
precious years. I can’t bring them back and 
live them over, but I can and will live the rest 
of my life right in God’s sight. Can you still 
love me in spite of all that is past, children?” 

F or answer, by common impulse they slipped 
their arms around him, and he drew each face 
down to his and kissed it. The barriers of 
years were swept away, and father and chil- 
dren were united by love. 

For a long time the little group sat there 
talking over plans for their future happiness 
and drinking in the supremest joy of living. 

Then the father spoke abruptly: “There is 


TABITHA AT IVY HALL 319 


another matter, children. When I named you 
as I did, I thought I was spiting the world. 
My own life had been made bitter by just that 
same thing, and I wanted to get even; but I 
only broke your mother's heart and made you 
both as miserable as I had been. It isn’t too 
late yet to change that. Drop those names I 
gave you and choose for yourselves what you 
would like to be called.” 

They stared at each other, then at him, in 
dumb amazement. Change their names! The 
possibility of having such a privilege grantt^. 
them had never occurred to either one before. 
At length Tabitha spoke : 

“If you had told me that once, I would have 
done it only too quickly; but now I have 
learned that if a person is kind and lovable, no 
one cares what the name is. Pretty names 
don’t make nice people, and homely ones don’t 
make them bad, either. I am — beginning — ^to 
rather like ‘Tabitha’ now, and I don’t wish to 
change my name.” 

“Or I mine,” added Tom; and once more the 
father drew their faces down to his own and 
kissed them. 


THE END 


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